2020
by peacefulroar
Summary: Wrestlemania weekend 2020: Seth Rollins has to face his past when Dean Ambrose turns to him for help after waking up next to a dead woman. With Seth and Dean on the run and the police looking only one way to find the culprit, it falls to Roman Reigns and Daniel Bryan to find the truth before it is too late.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everybody! I know, I'm very late saying Hi to you, but when I first started posting this story, I struggled with the user interface so much that I was glad I got a chapter posted and didn't even try to include notes. But, six chapters in and there still seem to be people reading, which makes me very happy and grateful, so I wanted to try again to give you the basics.**

 **This is actually a completed story that I wrote between September '15 and April '16 for a dear friend and I only decided to publish it once I was sure I could finish the plot. And since it is called 20/20, it is split up in 20 chapters. I'll update every Sunday morning/noon and Wednesday evening (my time zone).**

 **Any questions, comments, don't hesitate to write, I hope you'll enjoy the story!**

In early April 2020, Seth Rollins felt that his life, all in all, was going well. How could it not, after all, he was World Heavyweight Champion, again, and as a face this time, so he was not constantly booed. He thoroughly enjoyed being cheered during his long feud with Brock Lesnar which was about to come to a - hopefully spectacular - end tomorrow at Wrestlemania.

It was still pretty early on the day before the big event and Seth was on his way to the lobby, sports bag on the one shoulder and the title on his other. He suppressed the urge to scratch his head because they had just bleached the right side of his hair again yesterday. Just some last hours of practice a couple of interviews and he would be ready for the big day.

He walked into the hotel lobby and checked if the heels had managed to get out on schedule so he and the other faces could get to their cars without being seen together. No, apparently not - his eyes immediately found Roman, who was staring at the somewhat jumbled lobby furniture in an exasperated fashion.

Apparently the Terrible Three - Roman's little son and Daniel's twins, all of them three-year old hellraisers - had somehow managed to entrench themselves in the lobby furniture and both dads were failing to convince them to come out. Seth saw Roman's wife and not-so-little-anymore Joelle standing by the door, waiting and suppressing smiles. When Joelle spotted Seth, she started to wave, but then flipped him the bird instead and immediately got a sharp tap on the arm from her mother. Seth winked at both of them - he knew Joelle was enjoying playing along with her father's heel run way too much, but really, what could you expect from a kid that had been involved in her dad's plotlines since she was seven? Seth knew he'd probably have done the same and loved every second of it.

Finally, Roman had somehow coaxed little Jonah out of his hiding place and scooped him up on his arm. He gave Seth a warm smile and a wave before he put on his sunglasses and his best scowl, awkwardly grabbed the US-Title and went out to face the inevitable cameras.

Seth readjusted his grip on his bag and his title belt and went over to the couch where Daniel sat. He had apparently changed his strategy and now ignored his children as best as he could while still always having at least one eye on them.

"Tough morning?" Seth inquired while sitting down. Daniel sighed. "Someone taught them 'You can't see me' and now they insist they're invisible. I really need to have a word with someone..." He raised an eyebrow and Seth laughed. "Nah," Daniel continued, "it's all good. Match against Roman looks pretty strong right now. How are you and Brock doing?" "Booked massages and physio for the rest of the week, because obviously I'll be in pain," Seth said, putting a hand on the back of his neck and wincing for emphasis.

Daniel made a noise of agreement – no-one in their right mind would book him against Lesnar ever again, even though his ability to beat the odds and come back from injuries was legendary by now. There was a pause in the conversation while they both pointedly looked away from Daniel's daughter, who was trying to sneak up on them slowly.

"So..." Daniel started slowly when it became clear that little Cait would still take some time. Seth looked at him, waiting for him to continue. Just when he thought that Daniel wouldn't, he said: "Did you see Dean at all?"

Seth swallowed, and tried a smile. He knew it would end up looking pained. "Nope. I have no idea what he's been up to." And he didn't. Dean had had to leave WWE due to medical reasons two years back. One shoulder injury too much had left him with a permanent movement restriction and his career had been over. There had been enough time for a haphazard Shield reunion that proved to be a smash hit anyway. After that, many promises of staying in touch, but life had turned out differently. And it still hurt. Seth had tried, he really did. So had Roman. But Seth could see the pain in Dean's eyes when he talked about all the things that happened on the road that Dean wasn't part of anymore. So after a while, Seth did not know what to say anymore, and neither had Dean.

Messages got shorter, less frequently, and then stopped. Seth was used to pain of all sorts and like all pain, he expected this one to heal after a while, or maybe he would just get used to it.

He was still waiting for that to happen.

It actually hurt more and more when Dean started to turn up on TMZ for drunk driving, brawling - all the stupid cliché things an ex-wrestler could get himself into, he did. Seth bitterly wondered if Dean had a list of misdemeanors he was working on. When things got bad, Dean still called Roman, but even Roman's apparently endless patience started to wear thin. Still, Roman had somehow managed to get Dean invited this weekend. Dean was supposed to come to Wrestlemania, shake hands, do interviews, maybe WWE would find a place for the black sheep who still had quite a lot of fans.

Seth had tried to brace himself for the moment he would see Dean again and for two days, he had seen him everywhere - in every boy with a leather jacket, every blond man and even one blonde woman. That had been embarrassing. But he had not seen Dean yet, had not talked to him. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But at this point he wondered if he could still do it.

Daniel just nodded. He had always been surprisingly sensitive to people's moods and didn't press Seth. Instead, he winked at Seth and suddenly jumped from the couch, caught little Caitlin and lifted her up in the air. "There, what do we have here!" he laughed and placed her on one hip. "My little invisible bug! I can always see you! And you too!" With the other arm, he grabbed his son from behind an armchair and lifted him up as well. Both twins gave a high, happy giggle and snuggled up against their dad.

Seth grinned and mused at biology's sense of humor - boisterous Cait with Bryans light eyes and blonde mob and shy little Donny with his mother's dark looks and fine features. Never the best with kids himself, Seth had to admit that Bryan family was as adorable as anyone could be. Well, except maybe Roman's family.

Just in time, Brie arrived, stunning as always, and relieved Daniel of the twin duty. Brie scooped up her son and after some encouragement from Brie and Daniel, Seth got waves from the whole Bryan family before they were ushered outside to meet back up with Roman and his family in the secluded training place, far away from nosy reporters.

Seth remained seated for another moment, bracing himself, going through the day, the match, the moves in his mind. But he could not really shake the pictures of Roman's and Daniel's families. Happy. Always there for each other. Yes, his own life was going well but this... this he didn't have. Well, it was not that unusual that you were still looking at 34, was it? He did not spend many nights alone, anyway, but the older he got, the more he wondered. He had expected to fall in love again some time, with some hot girl with a sense of humor and good taste in music, preferably. He had met those girls. But he didn't fall in love. It just didn't happen the way it was supposed to happen, just like the pain about Dean's absence didn't do the reasonable thing and just ebb away. He felt his heart rate rise and tried to stomp on these thoughts.

He was assisted by one of the dozens of apparently easily replaceable people with clipboards and headsets who suddenly appeared at his side and addressed him. "Mr. Rollins? I'm afraid the reporters were getting a little out of hand. The hotel took the liberty of parking your car on the back parking lot; I'll show you the way." Seth nodded agreement, pocketed his car keys and grabbed his bag and the title belt. The assistant maneuvered them through back hallways and finally opened a door for him that led out into a small and almost empty high-walled parking lot that was bathed in sunshine.

Seth could already see his car in the distance. He knew the red convertible was a hopelessly flashy affair, but he loved it. He heard the hotel door slam shut behind him as the assistant left. He had almost reached his car when there was the sound of fast footfalls, a hand on his arm, pushing him towards the high wall, his back making contact with it. But at the same time, there was the scent. The scent that was long training sessions in FCW. T-Shirts thrown in his face in response to a stupid joke. Waking up in the same hotel bed, much closer to each other than expected. The scent of fighting against each other for the probably 100th time, but still wowing the crowd, still coming up with something new. The scent of nights never spoken about. Two years gone in a split second. Dean. Wrestling Soulmate. Brother. Stranger.

Seth felt numb with shock while approximately ten different emotions fought for his attention. Somehow, while his mind was still reeling, his mouth decided on a course of action. "Fuck, Dean, what?" he managed and finally actually calmed down to look at the man who was holding him by the shoulders. Dean looked horrible. His hair was plastered to his head as if he had just run a marathon; his eyes were red and wide with panic. "Seth." Dean's voice was deep and hoarse and another stream of memories flooded Seth's memory. Seth, get off the internet, we want to order dinner. Seth, are you okay? Seth, please, harder, _yes_.

He blinked to chase away the memory.

"Seth I can't explain but I need your car keys. Please. Really, I..." Dean shook his head, looked down and loosened the grip on Seth's shoulders until only his fingertips touched the belt on the one side and the fabric of Seth's hoodie on the other. But Seth had no intention of letting him go. He grabbed the lapels of Dean's leather jacket - always those leather jackets - and pulled until Dean reluctantly met his eyes again. "Dean. What. Is. Going. On. Here?" Seth asked, stressing every word. Dean's eyes filled with tears and Seth felt panic rise in his chest. "I can't..." "No. You're telling me right now." Dean's lips quivered and Seth felt the fingers on his shoulders shake. He gave Dean's jacket another firm pull.

"I, There's." Dean swallowed and then rushed into it. "There's a dead woman in my hotel room, I swear I did not hurt her, Seth, I swear, I really do, I..."

"What?!" Seth shouted over Dean's continuing rambling and found one of Dean's hands pressed on his mouth. Now there really were tears in Dean's eyes as he lowered his hand to Seth's shoulder again. "Seth, I need to get away."

"You can't be - God you _are_ serious." Seth felt his own hands tremble now against Dean's jacket. "We'll need to call the police. Now." We. That was quick. Dean let go of Seth's shoulders and stepped back, freeing his jacket from Seth's grip. "You don't understand." he said, pulling his hair with both hands.

"They are already there. I - I called an ambulance as soon as I found her, though-" he gave a desperate laugh - "she was dead alright. Cold and wide eyed and... But I did not do that to her. I have no idea what happened." He started pacing, hands still entangled in his hair. "Well, tell them that!" Seth noticed that he was shouting again and tried to control his voice. "Don't make it worse by running away!" "You. Don't. Understand." Dean came to a halt in front of Seth. "They'd have to arrest me. I've been arrested before, I have a record. I can't go back to jail. I can't. I won't know if I'll ever get out again. Seth, they once locked me up for three days and trust me, if I have to go back, that's it. I can't do it. I swear to God I'll slit my throat at the first opportunity I get. I don't want to, Seth, but I can't handle it. Seth, please, give me the keys. Please."

Seth felt numb with horror. "So you can kill yourself with my car instead? Is that the plan? You can't believe that you can run from the police forever!" he whispered. "No!" Dean shouted. "I just need to get away until they figured out I didn't do it. But I can't wait that time out in jail. Seth! You have to..." he made a grab for Seth, but Seth sidestepped him and threw up his arms. "What on earth makes you even suspect that the police think you killed her? Who was she, anyway? This is just insane." Seth felt like he was losing his mind. He moved another step away from Dean, but Dean followed immediately, first starting to put his hands back on Seth's shoulders, but then stopping in mid-movement.

"Seth, I was with her last night and now she is dead. She has bruises all over her body; I swear they are not mine. I wasn't... I wasn't rough with her." Not rough with her. More images. His wrist held tightly over his head. Checking the shining blue bruises on his hips in the mirror the next morning and feeling... pride. His screams of lust and pain silenced by Dean's mouth, Dean protecting his head with one hand from bumping against the headboard. Not _rough_ with her. Not rough with _her_.

Seth's ears started ringing as it slowly sank in just how bad this probably looked. He felt his hand slip into his jeans pocket and close around his car keys. This is it, he thought. This is how the story ends. "Why me? Why are you asking that of me," Seth whispered. He could see Dean bite his lip. "Because you are the only person in the world that maybe, just maybe, might actually do it."

Seth closed his eyes. He could feel his heart break. No way out. He opened them again and saw his arms extend, somehow, and the title belt slipped from his shoulder, but he didn't care.

His fingertips brushed Dean's palm as he put his keys there. Dean's hand closed around them. Their eyes met, both brimming with tears. "Thank you." Dean whispered. "Say I took them from you." He turned around and ran towards the car.

Seth looked after him, still stunned, subconsciously gripping the slipping title, when it softly sank in.

 _That's it. He's going to drive off, and if you see him again alive, that's better luck than you deserve._ _Who does he think he is, outrunning the police, and who do you think you are, giving him all options to crash himself into a tree instead, or get himself shot? If you call the police now, maybe they'll get him before it gets nasty. Tell them to put him on suicide watch._

But then, Seth remembered the way Dean spoke about jail and no, no matter how foolish that was, he could not do it. Could not take Dean's decision from him. Dean had reached the car and flung open the door on the driver's side. Seth could do nothing but stand still and stare.

Nothing happened. A few noises, the car bucking and... yes. Dean did not know how to drive a manual. He'd probably kill himself - and maybe others - in a road accident before the police were even close. What a brilliant plan.

Seth found that his feet moved on his own, accelerating until he ran to the red convertible. _'So that's what it's like to lose your mind,'_ he thought, in a slightly bemused, distant way. He opened the door and saw Dean's despair etched in his features. "Move over, Thelma." he said with much more confidence than he felt, tossing belt and bag on the back seat. "I'm driving."


	2. Chapter 2

It took Dean a moment to readjust, both physically and mentally, but before long Seth had taken the car to the exit of the parking lot. "Put that belt on," he said and turned to Dean. "So, where are we going?" Dean swallowed visibly and stared back at him, but didn't answer. Seth felt his heart sink. "You have no plan, none at all, right?"

Dean nodded, but then added in a hoarse voice "It's probably a start to get away from places that have your face plastered all over them…" he looked past Seth's head towards the Wrestlemania flags that lined the street. Seth followed Dean's gaze but averted his eyes quickly, exhaled sharply. As Dean clicked his belt shut, Seth steered the car in the direction that meant 'away' to him – away from the arena, away from the training center. "Seth?" Dean asked in a small voice "Are you sure about this?" "Hell no." Seth answered and accelerated the car.

He tried to navigate through the city traffic as quickly and as inconspicuously as possible at the same time, concentrating all his attention on making no mistakes and getting them to a less busy area. After some miles, he stopped at a red light and turned towards Dean again. Dean leaned against the passenger door and drummed an unsteady rhythm against his legs.

"Okay, Dean," Seth said, and found that this voice sounded brittle even to his own ears. "Tell me what happened. If I'm going to be an accessory after the fact – or whatever this here makes me – I'd like to know the whole story." "You can't be an accessory after the fact. There's no fact." Dean answered gruffly. "Well, a woman is dead, right?" "But that's not my fault!" Dean yelled and Seth flinched at the sudden outburst.

"I never said it is!" he answered, also louder than he intended and put the car back into gear, watching his hands shake a little. "Just tell me what happened," he added in what he hoped was a soothing tone. Dean's hands went into his hair again, then back into his lap, fidgeting.

"Right. She – she said her name is Melody. I-" he groaned "I met her last night in a bar. I… couldn't sleep. Big surprise. She was alone, and pretty... I realized that she looked like she had been crying and I thought, well, maybe I can cheer her up."

"Classic Ambrose," Seth said under his breath and Dean shot him an angry look. Seth tried a gesture of apology without taking his hands off the steering wheel. "Sorry. Go on."

"Alright. Okay. When I sat down next to her, I noticed that she had bruises, lots of them. She said she just left an abusive boyfriend and didn't know what to do. I told her – I told her she could come with me, WWE booked me a double room. Don't, Seth. I know that makes me look like the biggest jerk ever. I wouldn't have made a move, I swear, I just wanted to help." "Didn't say anything", Seth answered through tight lips, not taking his eyes of the road.

"As soon as we got back to my hotel, she started kissing me," Dean continued. "And I… I slept with her, but I was gentle, tried to steer clear of her injuries…" _And we both had enough practice on that_ shot through Seth's mind, but he bit his tongue before anything could escape.

"She was fine! She wasn't drunk, or seemed out of it, anything. When it was over, she went to the bathroom and then fell asleep on the other side of the bed. I did not even touch her again, just went to sleep on my side… And then alarm rang early this morning, because I was supposed to meet Hunter, and there she was next to me on her back, eyes wide open, obviously… gone. I tried to feel her pulse, even though I know it was useless. I called an ambulance, and then I… left."

They drove in silence for a while, lost in their own thoughts. _In another universe, we would have met during the rehearsals today_ , Seth thought. _Probably you would have nodded at me from across the room, and I would have smiled back weakly, and that's that. Life goes on._

"Ok, and what it is that you are not telling me?" Seth finally asked and turned back to Dean, who cracked his knuckles. "What do you mean?" he said without looking up. Seth took a deep breath to keep himself from outright yelling. "Seriously? I _know_ you! You're holding back and I think I fucking deserve the whole story here!"

Dean pushed himself back against the seat and threw his hands up. "Ok, if you must. I'm not sure, but I think the boyfriend story was bullshit. I think she was a prostitute." Seth felt his hands tighten on the wheel. "What difference does that make now?" "The difference, Seth, is that it gives me a motive. I could have killed her because we fought over money. She never asked for any, but that's just what I say." Barely keeping his voice under control, he added: "They could think I hired her and went too far. If, in some freak way she died from an injury she got earlier, the boyfriend could have been identified. Maybe he'd even have a prior for domestic abuse. If it was some john, chances are that they will never find him and I was there. Right. Next. To. Her. Body. How carefully will they look anyway? I do have a record."

Seth heard the panic in Dean's voice and felt his own rise again. Focus, he thought. On the road. On the possibilities. "Dean, you don't have a record for domestic abuse. You never hurt a woman, did you?" he said more steadily than he had expected from himself. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Dean shake his head mutely. He continued: "From what you told me, and especially if she really was a prostitute, she could have been on drugs. What if she took an overdose of something when she used your bathroom? It's horrible that she's dead, but maybe this is all for nothing." Dean shook his head again and bit his lips. "I would have recognized the symptoms. I do know what that looks like, remember?" Seth only frowned.

"But I think she had plans for me." Dean continued. "Looking back, she seemed to get a lot more interested in me after I mentioned WWE… God, I shouldn't talk about her like that. She's dead." "Sorry to be blunt here, but she is beyond all trouble, we are not, and we need to figure this mess out. So, you think the most likely scenario is that she died from her old injuries? Well, she seemed fine; no-one can really blame you for not taking her to the hospital. Maybe they can even prove that the injury that killed her was old! That would help you!" Dean sighed, obviously not sharing Seth's enthusiasm. "That would only help if I could prove that I never met her before last night and that's going to be difficult. I… wasn't very sociable during the last days. Not many people who can say where I was or was not."

"Not even Ro?" Seth asked softly. Thinking of him hurt. How would he take all this? Did he know already? And when would he see him again, under what circumstances… Dean sighed again and Seth saw the sadness in his eyes. _That_ sadness. The sadness he knew, the sadness that had ruined them. He guessed what Dean might say and hoped he would be wrong.

"I couldn't do that. He was so busy, with his storyline, his family, everything…It's not like it was… before. I can't, - shouldn't be part of his life anymore." Dean paused, and then tried to add a whispered: "Or y…"

Seth felt a scream inside his own head rise. He pulled over by the side of the fairly empty road, hard, killed the engine so suddenly that the whole car drifted a little and both men were flung into their seatbelts. With the last remnants of his self control Seth turned to Dean and hissed: "Don't. You. Dare." Dean just stared, wide eyed. "Don't you sit here, now, with everything that just happened, and tell me that the fact that we are basically strangers with a common past now is the way it "should" be. You don't get to say this. Don't you fucking dare."

They stared into each other's eyes, neither of them moving, hardly blinking, Seth's eyes holding deadly fire and Dean's showing speechless confusion, embarrassment and – oh, so typically Dean – defiance. Seth felt his heart pumping hard and his breath quick with the rage he felt. And yes, worst of all, in spite of all the anger, he noticed how staring Dean down still did _things_ to him. How often had he done that? In the ring, and outside? Neither of them backing away just a little? Knowing in the back of their heads how it would end? He knew, if he'd drop his gaze to Dean's lips right now he would be done for. There were things in life you apparently could not change. Gravity. Time. Dean and Seth.

He had never found a word for them, because he didn't know what to compare them to. But a word came to him now, from the past, a nasty word meant to hurt. _Business partners._ Of course, that had been just a line. But wasn't that what Dean had just said? That now that their "business" was concluded, Seth shouldn't care anymore. Move on. Well, he tried and what a great success that had been. Maybe Dean was just better at this. Leave him, and Roman, behind. With a sinking feeling, Seth wondered if he was really risking everything he had for someone to whom he was a memory from a distant past.

He held on to his rage with all his might, because he could feel the tip of the searing pain just underneath.

A phone started ringing. Seth did not recognize the sound. Dean finally averted his eyes and pulled out his phone. "I wondered when this would start," he said quietly. "Unknown number, best if I just let it ring…" They both stared at the noisy piece of plastic in Dean's hand. "We need a plan. Fast." Seth told him as calmly as he could. "Yes," Dean answered. After a while, the noise stopped. Dean turned off the volume. Seth put the car back into gear. "I'll drive us somewhere where we don't look like the car broke down and we need help."

Dean nodded. A few heartbeats later, he started "Seth, I didn't want…" Seth cut him off. "I know. It doesn't matter," he lied. "Forget it." Seth knew he couldn't do it, couldn't talk about it. Them. Maybe he could keep Dean out of harm's way for long enough to sort this mess out. Maybe he could even get himself back out of the grave he was just digging for himself. But deep down he knew, if he went down the path to their past, he'd be doomed. Completely and utterly doomed.


	3. Chapter 3

Daniel's kick connected perfectly with Roman's temple. Too bad it should have missed.

"Damn, Ro, are you okay?" Daniel asked, picking himself up from where he had landed awkwardly. Roman had dropped to his knees and held his head, but his eyes were still fixed on the door – where they also had been when he forgot to move. Police. Some in civilian clothes, some in uniform. They talked to an assistant and were pointed to the hallway where Hunter and the others had set up camp to do all last-minute preparation that could not be done in the arena.

"It's not so bad, Dan, I won't die." Roman said, snapping out of dark thoughts. "Are you ok? Sorry, that was totally my mistake."

Daniel smiled "Yes, it was. I'm okay. But what's wrong? Do you know why the cops are here?" Roman shook his head very carefully. "No. But Seth still isn't here."

Daniel knew better than to argue. He had married a twin and he had twin children, which had given him his share of witnessing slightly creepy telepathy moments. That did not explain why Roman could always tell if his Shield brothers were around, but he knew he could trust Roman's gut feeling. If he said so, Seth had not come. And that was weird.

Brock Lesnar had been furious when Seth was only five minutes overdue and after about 15, he had to give up his training ring to a friendly, but extremely insistent Bayley. Now he was seething on a bench on the opposite side of the hall. Paul Heyman sat next to him, trying to calm him, but also looking as if his breakfast had been foul.

By now, Roman had gotten up and waved towards the trainer who approached the ring. "Sorry. I was stupid. Need an ice pack. Be right back." Daniel followed his friend. It was damned obvious that he just wanted to get closer to the action, but the first-aid room was just next to Hunter's office. He saw Roman exchange a glance with his wife, who sat with their children and an assortment of other family members at a makeshift playground on the sidelines. Daniel could not read their wordless exchange and Brie was so busy with the twins that she had not even noticed that something was amiss.

Roman and Daniel both walked quietly as they entered the corridor, trying to pick up a sentence or at least a name. But when they made it to door of the first-aid room, the name they seemed to hear was not "Rollins". It was "Ambrose".

Daniel turned to Roman but before he could form a question, Hunter bolted out of his office, a middle aged, dark haired police officer in elegant plain clothes in tow.

"Roman! Good, just the man I was looking for. This is Detective Moore. He needs to talk to Dean Ambrose. No need to worry, I'm sure we'll solve the issue in no time. Daniel, can you maybe fetch Seth?" There was no denying that Hunter was nervous. He tried his best to seem in control, but both Daniel and Roman could see it in the hectic way he gestured with his hands and hear the worry behind the superficial charm in his voice.

Daniel felt fear rise in his chest and wondered how bad it must be for Roman. "Sorry, I don't think I can", Daniel said with a glance towards Roman. "As far as I can tell, Seth didn't show yet." Before Hunter could react, Detective Moore interjected. "Seth is the other friend of Mr. Ambrose you mentioned? And he has not been seen today?" "Oh, we saw him at the hotel," Daniel corrected him. "But I think he hasn't arrived here yet."

"And that is unusual?" Detective Moore inquired. The three wrestlers exchanged glances, but no-one answered at first. "Look." Unexpectedly, it was Roman who had found his voice first, much to Daniel's and Hunter's horror. "Why don't you tell us first what's going on here and why you want to see Dean, then we talk about everything else." Daniel quickly considered his options, but there was no way to kick Roman inconspicuously.

The Samoan towered over the detective in full protective older brother mode. Daniel thought it must look damned scary; the detective did not seem fazed, though, and looked back at Roman levelly. "Mr. – was it Rollins or Reigns?" "Reigns." "Mr. Reigns. I'll gladly tell you why we are here, but please calm down first and let's sit down somewhere. Mr. Helmsley, you said there is a room I can use?" Hunter nodded and pointed towards a door. "Over there." "Good." The detective forced a smile.

"I'll fill Mr. Reigns in and maybe he can solve all this already, and meanwhile, would you and Mr…" "Bryan." "Mr. Bryan maybe try to find Mr. Rollins and bring him to my partner, Detective Adams over there? The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can go back to preparing your – show." He said it with just the slightest note of distaste, but Daniel noticed. Hunter put an iron hand on Daniel's shoulder and pushed him towards a slightly younger, gangly blonde policeman.

Daniel tried to sneak a glance back at Roman, but the Samoan just nodded coldly and followed the detective into the spare room. It was probably an additional catering room not currently in use.

* * *

Detective Moore gestured Roman into a chair and sat down opposite him, a table between them. Roman thought of all the acting teachers who had told him that he'd have to teach himself to show more emotion on his face and for once, he was glad about his natural poker face.

Dean. What was it this time? He had really hoped that this weekend might be a changing point for his best friend. Maybe some guest spots, steady work… Roman's wife had, ever careful and lovingly protective of her man, tried to prepare him for the possibility that Dean might not use the opportunity Roman had lobbied so hard for. She had tried to protect him from disappointment. He had braced for a lot of things, but not for an interview with the police and honest to God, he felt terrified. But they were looking for Dean, right? So at least there was no indicator that he might be hurt… or worse…

"Mr. Reigns, I'm sorry, I know this is difficult. But let's start with when you last saw Mr. Ambrose." "In person?" Roman had to consider this for a while. "A few days into the new year. Why?" "More than three months, really?" The detective raised his eyebrows dramatically and Roman was sure he used that gesture a lot. "Mr. Helmsley made it sound like you are best friends…" "We are." Roman interjected angrily. "He's like a brother to me. He's just not… in a good place right now." Damn. He shouldn't have said that. That sounded… suspicious.

"I see." The detective pulled out a notebook and scribbled something. "What was the occasion, back then?" Roman felt like flinching, but only closed his eyes briefly.

"I bailed him out of jail. He got into a stupid bar fight. I'm sure you have that on record." No point lying here, was there? Probably there was no point in lying at all. Why would he even consider lying to the police? There was nothing to be won by that!

"We do, actually. And as far as I know, that was not the first time that happened, right? Mr. Ambrose gets into trouble, you come his aid?" Detective Moore smiled a tiny smile.

"Yes, that happened before. Look" Roman leaned forward and decided to gun for full honesty. "He's my best friend; he's been in trouble before, now you come here looking for him. I haven't even talked to him in, two days I think, I have no clue what's going on. Can't you just please tell me what happened? You got me seriously worried here, all right."

There was a hint of sympathy in the detective's eyes. "Soon. Just one more question. What was that last conversation with Mr. Ambrose?" Roman let himself fall back in the chair. "Two days ago, I got a text message. He just wrote 'Arrived'. I wrote: 'Great, wanna meet up?' He didn't answer." The detective looked at him and there was steel there Roman had not noticed before. "He didn't call you today? Or tried to?" Roman noticed goose bumps on his skin. "No. But as you can see, I'm in my ring gear. My phone is in my locker. I don't think I really looked at it all morning; Wrestlemania is the most hectic weekend of the year. I'll get it for you if you want, but please tell me what we are talking about here!"

"Fair." Detective Moore put down his pen and steepled his fingers. "This morning, Mr. Ambrose called 911 and told them that there was a dead woman in his hotel room. Upon arrival, the medical team indeed found a deceased woman in the hotel room booked in his name, but Mr. Ambrose had left. Right now, we don't know where he is. We tried to call him, he did not answer. We had hoped to find him here, as he had a note in his room about meeting Mr. Helmsley today. Apparently, he did not show and now, there seems to be another one of your friends missing."

Roman stared at the policeman, dazed. Dean couldn't have. Could he? "No! No way." He blurted out. The policeman paused a little while until he quietly continued: "I want you to listen to something." He pulled out a tablet computer and started a sound file.

"911 – How can I help you?" a tinny sounding female voice enquired. "Hi. Ahh…" Dean's voice also sounded metallic, but there was no doubt that it was his brother. In total panic. Roman did not need more than two syllables to tell. "You need to send an ambulance to the Candlewood Hotel, room 224. There's a woman here… I think she's dead. I didn't…" Roman felt like someone had dumped ice on him. Dean sounded completely beside himself with fear.

"Sir!" the tinny woman inquired, now also sounding shocked. "Sir! Did you…" "I'm sorry". And a click.

Roman tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. Again, some sympathy could be seen on the detective's face as he put the tablet down. "No need to ask you if it was him. I can tell."

True. It was him. But he would never…but in an accident? Oh God. _I'm sorry_. What was he sorry about? Please, no. But also _I didn't!_ "He wouldn't hurt a woman" Roman exclaimed and immediately groaned inwardly. Of course, he would say that, wouldn't he? He was not helping Dean at all. But how could he help Dean, now? And what had Seth to do with this?

The detective smiled a sad smile at him. "I understand that this must be shocking, but I'm sure you appreciate that I can't take your word for this. I need to talk to him." He paused until Roman nodded, feeling like a child in front of a feared teacher.

"Who was she? How did she die? Can you tell me?" Roman said tonelessly. "We don't know for sure yet, and there are several possibilities," the detective answered, and Roman thought this was only a half-truth. "But I can tell you that she was severely bruised."

"He wouldn't hurt a woman" Roman repeated obstinately. Detective Moore just nodded. "I need to hear what happened from him. Now, do you have any idea where he might be?" Roman's mind raced. What should he tell the man? He knew absolutely nothing and obviously avoiding the police would only make it worse.

Why didn't the idiot stay put, especially… If he didn't do it? _Because he didn't do it!_ Roman knew he'd have to come up with something. "Dean wanders the streets, occasionally, when he is upset. Maybe he just went out to clear his head and then lost the way… that happened before". It had. Many times. But Roman noticed all the same how weak it sounded. He rambled on: "He… didn't have the best experience with police. You know he was arrested before and the cops were…" _Oh God how to say this_. "Unprofessional towards him, taunted him as an "ex-celebrity"… and he really hates enclosed spaces. He's probably just scared, but I'm sure he'll show up."

"I really hope he does" Detective Moore said coldly, obviously unconvinced. "It can get only worse from here on if he doesn't. This other friend of yours, Mr. Rollins… in case he didn't show up in the meantime… is he someone Mr. Ambrose might have sought out for help?" That question threw Roman more than he would have expected and it hurt that he couldn't really answer it. So, truth here.

"I really don't know. They were very close when we were all still working together, but as far as I know, they completely lost track of each other. You know that when Dean was in trouble before, he called me. He never called Seth. I know that for sure. Look, can I just go to my locker and check my phone? I might have missed a call and Dean is the type of guy who wouldn't answer a number he does not know." _Even if he knew the police must be looking for him, though? Really?_

Detective Moore's smile had a hint of shark to it. "I was just going to ask you to. You don't mind if I join you?" _Of course._ What could he say to that?

* * *

They had to cross the whole gym to get to the locker rooms. Roman looked out for his wife and Daniel (and Seth, but then he kind of knew already that would be futile). Daniel stood at the little makeshift playground, and the other detective was still with them, Hunter had apparently left. Daniel looked grim. Roman found his wife and immediately knew they had been told what happened. He saw in her face the look of steely determination he knew so well – it said: "Things look really, really bad right now but I swear to God I'll get us through this." He knew very well why he loved her so much.

"Can't find Mr. Rollins", the other detective called over. Daniel frowned and shrugged, but Roman just nodded. He would have known.

Roman had to dig deep in his bag until he found his phone. Had it always felt this heavy? With Detective Moore looking over his shoulder, he unlocked it. He wondered how his hands looked so steady.

Moment of truth.

No missed calls.

Three new text messages.

Three names popped up on the screen. Frank. Jennifer. Mom. "Frank's a buddy from college; Jennifer is part of the PR team…" Roman explained needlessly.

Damn. Why didn't Dean call? Why? He thumbed through the messages _. Good luck for tomorrow. Please wear the new black shirt for the TV interview. Honey, please remember to get that additional ticket for your aunt._ Detective Moore nodded.

"Could you please show me your last conversations with Mr. Ambrose and Mr. Rollins?" Roman complied mechanically, giving up resistance for now. There was nothing left to do here, anyway. The messages to Dean were exactly as described. The conversation with Seth consisted mostly of strange photos and emoticons as answers to those. The newest was five days old. "We usually stay at the same hotel so we hardly use that to communicate…" Roman volunteered. Without prompting, he also opened the chat group that just included him, Dean and Seth.

The last… five. The last five messages were from Roman himself with no answers. He had not even realized that. The last message was more than a month old. "Okay, thank you." Detective Moore sounded disappointed. "Would you show me your call log, too?" Roman felt anger rise, but held back and opened the file. Mom. Jimmy. Jennifer. Hunter. Mom. Seth. Dad. Daniel. Detective Moore seemed to lose interest.

"Okay. I want to talk to my colleague, can you come along? No, take it with you," he added as Roman made a motion to put his phone back. Wordlessly, he followed. Back at the playground, detective Adams filled in his colleague. "As I said, no word of Mr. Rollins after Mr. and Mrs. Bryan said goodbye to him at the hotel. But Mr. Bryan here also remembered that he did not see the car Mr. Rollins drives, which is unusual, as it's a bright red convertible. I called our people back at the hotel and so far it seems that the staff took the car to the smaller parking lot at the back, but it's not there anymore. Right now, they are trying to find the assistant who took Mr. Rollins to his car and apparently, there is a camera on the back lot – but we haven't found out yet if it's on or where the footage is kept."

Mr. Reigns – can we use your phone to try and contact Mr. Ambrose and Mr. Rollins?" Detective Moore asked. Roman shrugged. He started to feel distanced from the whole scene; as if it wasn't really him dialing Dean's number. He put it on speaker and listened to the ringback tone. He had no idea what to say if Dean actually answered. He just very much doubted it at this point, anyway. It was all wrong.

The ringing went on and on as both detectives started to shift. "He's got no voicemail, says that stuff annoys him…" Roman explained. "Okay." Detective Moore gestured at the phone. "Try Mr. Rollins instead." Roman went through the motions and the ringback tone started up again. After the fifth time the call went to voicemail. Roman disconnected immediately. "Sorry." He looked at the policemen. "Did you want me to leave a message?" Detective Moore exchanged a glance with his colleague. "Do they use a messenger that displays if a message is read?" Roman shook his head. "They both hate that."

"Of course," the detective said testily. "Please leave messages for them anyway, just ask them to call back, nothing more. Mr. Reigns –"he added as he saw hesitation on Roman's face. "You are very much doing your friends a favor here." "I know, sorry." Roman typed the messages. With no pockets on his ring gear, he just held it firmly in one hand and waited for an alert that did not come.

Only now he noticed his wife standing close behind him, one hand softly touching the small of his back. He felt incredibly grateful for the small gesture that reminded him that he would not have to face his troubles all alone. He turned round to meet her eyes and she nodded quietly, then turned her eyes back to the policemen, who were having a quiet conversation. Roman noticed that Daniel had not moved, either, and was still very much listening to the conversation.

Everyone else had backed off quietly, but all attention was on them. But everyone who had a break in the training session glanced over, trying to figure out what was going on. Well, except Brock Lesnar, who had cornered Hunter at the opposite side of the hall to spew out his anger into the other man's face. Paul Heyman nearby looked defeated. The policemen also noticed the inaudible exchange.

"Who's that guy and why does he have a lawyer with him?" Detective Adams asked no-one in particular "He's no lawyer, he's his spokesman… ah, hard to explain. The other man is Seth's opponent tomorrow, probably upset that he did not show." Daniel answered distractedly. Detective Adams looked at him.

"Mr. Bryan, you told me before that you have known Mr. Rollins and Mr. Ambrose for a long time. "I met each one before the two of them met, yes." "Mr. Bryan, Mr. Reigns – you have both been saying that the two men have been friends – good friends, but that they are not in touch anymore…" "Seth himself basically said that just this morning!" Daniel's patience was wearing audibly thin, too, Roman noticed behind the haze that covered his thoughts.

"Yes, you told me. Still, I need to ask both of you: Is there anything that might suggest that… Mr. Ambrose might have involved Mr. Rollins in this against his will? Was there ever any bad blood between them? Unfinished business?" While Daniel just shook his head, Roman's "No!" was straight on the line between anger and panic and made heads turn.

Roman could feel his cheeks turn red, but he could not really tell why. Dean would not hurt Seth. Probably could not, for that matter, being two years out of training. But then, a nasty voice added: _Well, that's what weapons are made for, right?_ No. Dean would not. But with that "No", he had just sold out Seth, didn't he? If Seth was helping Dean? But why on earth would Seth be involved in anything that would make it worse for Dean? Roman's head was spinning and he bit his tongue, wondering what stupid thing he would probably say next. Nothing made any sense.

"Well," Detective Moore said. "At this point, I doubt that the disappearances of these two men are coincidental." No-one said anything. There was nothing good to say.

"Is there anything – _anything_ else about them or their relationship that we should know about?" Roman's next "No!" was just as bad as the first one. Daniel took a deep breath and then looked from one cop to the other as steadily as he could. "No, really, they were good friends, then they lost touch. Seth seemed perfectly normal this morning. I'm sorry but this is very distressing for all of us, we've been on the road with them for years and all this sound really bad." Neither detective looked very much convinced, but they nodded and turned to re-join Hunter.

"We'll be right back. Mr Reigns, tell us immediately if either of your friends tries to get in contact." Roman nodded, doubting his voice too much to speak. He turned round and pressed his wife firmly to his chest.

"What are they doing, Love?" She whispered. "I wish I knew," he murmured into her hair. He let go of her and saw his daughter on a bench further off, looking at them both confused and scared. She did not even remotely listen to Brie, who was apparently trying to soothe her and supervise the toddlers at the same time. Roman looked down at his wife again. "I'll explain. You try to calm down and focus," she said before he could open his mouth, gave his free hand a squeeze and went to her almost-teenaged child.

"I need air," Roman said to no-one in particular and tried to leave the hall as quickly as possible without actually running. Outside, he turned left randomly and walked around the building until he found an empty place – the stairs below a barricaded side door. He sat down heavily, threw his damned silent phone on his lap and put his face in his hands.


	4. Chapter 4

Roman only noticed that he had been followed when someone sat down close to him.

He looked up at Daniel, but the older man just stared straight ahead into the branches of the trees that surrounded the gym. "This is so messed up," Roman muttered quietly and put his head back down. "Yup," Daniel agreed. He only paused a second before he continued: "You really know nothing about this, right?"

Roman's head went back up again. "Of course I don't!" he burst out. Daniel put up his hands and gave a pacifying smile. "Easy, Big Dog. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," Roman said softly. "Did I look very much like I was hiding something?" he asked, clearly scared of the answer. Daniel sighed. "To be perfectly honest, yes." Roman groaned. "But then," Daniel added slowly, "I _know_ you are hiding at least one thing. Because I am, too."

Daniel thought that Roman's look of confusion would have been hilarious in any other moment but right now. He turned his eyes down and started again, carefully choosing his words.

"Back in, well, 'the good old days', when Dean was still on the road with us, I saw him and Seth together. When they… thought they were alone." When Daniel looked back up, Roman's face gave nothing away and he wondered if, and how, to go on. Neither man spoke for a while until Daniel took heart and tried to pick up the conversation.

"It was that house show, you weren't there, but maybe you remember anyway – Dean and Seth had a match and removed the turnbuckle padding for a spot… one of the fans got hold of the pad and hit Seth in the back of the head with it when he walked out?" Roman nodded. He remembered when his brothers got hurt, even though the physical injury had been small.

"Seth was livid, backstage," Daniel remembered, "But actually he looked scared. And exhausted. I thought attracting all the hatred was starting to get to him. So, as I had borrowed some ointment from him, I thought I give it back in case he needed it. But I was in a hurry and I just barged into his dressing room without knocking and, well, there they were. Completely wrapped up in each other. Lips locked, Dean's hands on Seth's jaw and in his hair, Seth clinging to Dean's shoulders… Like they could not have an atom of space between them. Like the world was about to end." He smiled sadly and sighed. "That probably sounds really stupid, but I think you must know what I mean."

"It doesn't sound stupid," Roman said, barely above a whisper. "And, yeah, I know."

"I think I just stood there for a few seconds before I remembered how my feet worked and then I got out and closed the door." Daniel continued, staring into the distance. "They were so caught up in each other, they did not notice anything. They never even knew I was there. But I kind of never forgot the picture…" He shook his head. "Made me so happy for them, I think I smiled the rest of the week. They just looked… really good together. I… I had really hoped that it would last."

Roman bowed his head, but still didn't answer. "Roman?" Daniel asked softly. "Shouldn't we tell the police they were… lovers? If it helps to sort this out?"

Roman scoffed. "But will it? Or are we just telling a secret to the world for no reason? Besides…" Roman shook his head, but Daniel didn't let go. "Besides what, Roman?"

"Besides, even I don't really know what went on there." Daniel blinked in confusion and hoped his friend would go on without more prompting, and finally he did.

"Look, we never talked about it. I think _they_ never talked about it, it was just… something that was not discussed. And maybe it didn't have to be. I thought with Dean leaving, they'd have to figure themselves out, but they didn't. Or they tried and it didn't work, but I don't even know that. It's bad enough as it is without that information making everything even stranger." Daniel sighed and pulled back some hair that had escaped from his ponytail. "But, would it make a difference? Would it help? Let's try and think this through."

Roman grunted and Daniel took it as agreement. "Okay. For whatever reason, Dean ends up with a dead woman in his hotel room." "Not for whatever reason. He didn't hurt her," Roman interrupted. Daniel held up his hands again. "Roman, we should take all possi..:"

"That is not a fucking possibility" Roman growled and Daniel backed off slightly. "Okay. Okay. I really don't think so either. But it might have been an accident, right? Accidents happen." Roman only scowled in answer. "Look, I'm trying to help here."

"I know," Roman admitted. "I guess it might have been." "Okay," Daniel continued. "Dean is in that situation, and he panics. But still does call the ambulance himself, is that right?" Roman nodded. "They played me the call. It was him, he was frantic." "So, what Dean usually does in a crisis, everybody knows, is call you. But this time, he doesn't." Roman picked up his silent phone again. Still no message. Daniel continued: "And since Seth is gone too, it's probably safe to say he called Seth instead, probably shortly after I left. Why call Seth and not you?"

"One million dollar question," Roman said, his hair hiding his face. Daniel looked at him sympathetically.

"Well, obvious answer: He knows this is bad and you have a family. You can't just jump into your car and drive him… wherever they went. But at this point, I highly doubt they went to find a lawyer or something reasonable like that." "And I wouldn't have," Roman answered. "No way in hell he could have made me do it. Not when it's so obviously bad for him."

"But he somehow made Seth do it and Seth is not usually stupidly reckless, unless it concerns jumping from high places. If Seth still has feelings for Dean, that might be an explanation but also…" Daniel fell silent so suddenly that Roman looked up. Daniel looked like a deer in the headlight, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. "Daniel?" Roman asked. "Daniel, what are you thinking?" Daniel frowned and looked at Roman's huge hands that made the clunky phone look tiny.

"Ro, I need you to promise that you are not going to use those fists to punch me. I'm just trying to figure out what the police might think, okay?"

Roman sighed and tossed the phone between both hands nervously. "I know Dan, and you know that I'm not going to hurt you, right? I'm sorry, I just can't think straight right now, so please just help me out here. What else if we tell them they were… whatever. Not just friends."

Daniel took a deep breath. "One thing they could think of is blackmail. Dean tells Seth he gives… whatever - photos, texts, videos - to the press unless Seth does what he wants." Daniel had firmly expected another heated denial from Roman, but the other man just groaned again and wiped a hand across his face.

"I hate it, but if you don't know them, I guess that does sound plausible." They didn't speak for a few seconds, but Roman noticed an unusual twitch in Daniel's fingers. "Dan, anything else? My promise stands." Daniel bit his lips. The first time, he said it so quickly that Roman did not understand anything and made him repeat it. Tonelessly, Daniel tried again: "If people… make a last stand… if they think it's so bad that they won't survive… they sometimes take the one they love along. Or the one that got away. Usually not the best friend."

Roman felt as if he had been dumped in ice water all over again _. Never, never, never_. But even though he knew it wasn't real, the image would not fade. With a punch that took his breath away, Roman wondered what he would do if he had really seen his brothers for the last time. If there was no happy end to this.

"It's not what happened," Daniel said next to him, soothingly. "But, yeah. I guess if we tell the police, this might look a little better for Seth, but probably not for Dean. And might give them a couple of really bad ideas." "With any luck, the video from the parking lot will help," Roman said, trying to get his mind back together. Daniel frowned again. "Wouldn't bet on it. They might not get the tape at all. Or it might just show Seth leaving to pick Dean up somewhere."

"So, after all, you think we should…" Daniel bit his lip again. "Keep our mouths shut, for now. Yes. For their sake. Though I don't like it."

Roman suddenly picked up his phone (still no messages) and unlocked it. Before Daniel could react, he had opened Dean's contact details and wrote:

 _"Dean, the police asked me to call, but now I'm alone. Call if you can."_

Daniel stared at the text. "What on earth do you think you are doing, Ro?" Roman breathed heavily. "Dan, they are my family. And if I have to lie to the police, one more thing to lie about doesn't really matter. And even if they find out, I just want to make them talk to me, and I want them to come back, so no harm done, right? Maybe they'll get in touch, maybe I can convince them to come back. It's what the police want, too."

Both men stared at the display, but nothing happened. Roman switched to Seth's chat. " _Seth, call me. I'm alone, I want to help!"_ Nothing. Daniel wondered if the phone would crack in Roman's hands sooner or later. Roman's fingers flitted across the screen and added:

 _"_ _WTF makes you think you are helping Dean right now? You need to get him to the police!"_

More silence. Roman tried Dean, again.

" _I know you're innocent. We can sort this out if you come here_."

Seconds ticked by. Daniel saw the pain on Roman's face and tried to say something, but before he could come up with anything, Roman had typed another message.

" _Why didn't you call me?"_

Daniel felt his own heart ache when he looked back up at Roman's face. "Ro…" But Roman interrupted him. "Did you see that?" Daniel looked back down at the phone. "No?" Roman sighed. "I thought I saw that little "typing" symbol there for a second, but now I'm not sure anymore…"

Daniel carefully, very carefully put a hand on Roman's shoulder. "Ro, stop it. I think it's safe to say that they don't want to involve you, if they even read this."

Roman switched off the display and closed his eyes. "Daniel, I need to help them. I need to be there for them. I just can't… can't let them do this. What if…" Roman's eyes filled with tears and Daniel grabbed his shoulder tightly and helplessly. "You'll see them again," he said. "Then you can yell at them and punch them and make up with them all you like."

Roman looked away and gave a hollow laugh. "Really, Dan? Look me in the eyes and tell me that you are absolutely, 100% sure that I'll see them again and that all will be like it was before." Daniel met his gaze, but then had to look down.

Roman pulled an arm around Daniel's shoulder and patted it. The gesture made Daniel lurch forward a little. "Yeah. And I like that about you. You are honest. Thank you. Even in the best case, both will probably be kicked out of WWE forever, deleted from the files…"

Roman removed his arm again and shook Daniel's hand from his shoulder. He unlocked his phone again and opened the chat labeled "Shield". Daniel's mouth dropped open as he saw what Roman was typing.

" _You know what? Fuck you. You are crazy."_

 _"_ _The police don't know yet why the woman died."_

 _"_ _They say they just want to talk, I believe them."_

 _"_ _The only thing that looks really bad is that you ran."_

 _"_ _They are not sure you are together –I am."_

 _"_ _They think you might have forced him to come with you"_

 _"_ _I know that's BS"_

 _"_ _They're getting a video from the parking lot right now."_

 _"_ _Don't know if they put out a warrant yet."_

 _"_ _Come back. Call. It's not too late."_

Roman glanced up defiantly at Daniel, who unconsciously shook his head very slowly. "I need to do what I can for them," Roman said in a whisper. "At least now they know what's the deal." He looked back at the phone again, still silent. 15 messages without answer, now. What was one more?

 _"I love you both."_

But the phone only answered with more silence. Daniel started to feel the cold air in spite of the jacket he had put on before following Roman. He put his hand back on Roman's shoulder. "Hey. You tried." Roman nodded. "I should delete all this, right?" Daniel just shrugged. He doubted it would matter if someone would really look for the messages.

Slowly, Roman opened all chat windows, selected the new messages and erased one after another. He paused a second before tackling the last one, but in the end, that message also went away. Just then, a little envelope appeared on the screen. Both men jumped a little and held their breath. Roman had never been this unhappy to receive a text from his wife.

" _Back isnide. Now."_

Roman frowned and got up. "Doesn't sound like her…" Daniel got up as well. "She probably wrote this secretly. Delete it too and go in, I'll wait a little…" Roman nodded and sprinted back towards the door.

Daniel stayed back and wondered about his own decision. Should he deny that he and Roman had been outside, talking? It would be insane to lie to the police any more than necessary. Still, it would look weird, wouldn't it? That they both went outside to have a chat? He could always say he went to comfort him - which would have the advantage of being true.

Daniel went back to the front of the building deliberately slowly and stopped at the corner to the parking lot without really knowing why. Two of the cars were obviously police cars and at one of them, a uniformed cop was chatting to… Hunter? Apparently. Daniel was way out of earshot, but he could easily see that Hunter presented his nicest, most convincing businessman-smile to the cop, who looked confused and reluctant.

This went on for quite a while until finally, Hunter pulled something from his jacket pocket. It looked like – money? Did Hunter really? Daniel looked on stunned as the wad of cash changed hands. Daniel tried and failed to see the value. What had Hunter bought himself there? As Hunter turned to go back inside, Daniel hid behind the wall and waited some more. After counting to two hundred, he went for the door as leisurely as possible.

Inside, it was mayhem. Daniel could just make out two policemen who were half ushering, half pushing Roman into the office-corridor. Detective Moore stood next to Hunter, who shouted "What!?" for all the hall to hear and then stormed out of the door again, phone in hand, brushing hard against Daniel's shoulder as he went past.

Daniel wondered if someone would approach him, but no-one did, so he made his way to the playground and his family. Brie and Roman's wife Galina stood next to each other, looking equally worried. He hugged and kissed Brie, and she held on to him tightly. Without waiting for his question, she whispered into his ear: "We did our best to listen in. Police think Roman held something back from them and they need to question him again. And they got the video from the parking lot. At first, it looked like Dean stole Seth's car. But…" she took a deep breath. "Then Seth ran to Dean. He actually ran to him."


	5. Chapter 5

While Seth drove on, Dean kept staring at his phone. "Anything interesting there?" Seth finally asked. "Missed some calls before. Probably before I… found you." Dean tapped his phone against his knee.

"Can you check if they miss me already?" Seth pulled his own phone from his jeans pocket and tossed it towards Dean without taking his eyes off the road too much. Dean caught it with his left hand, unlocked it and opened the new messages Seth had received.

 _You didn't even hesitate before entering the code_ , Seth thought. Sure, he had not changed it in forever and that was stupid all by itself, but still…

"Brock Lesnar wants to kill you," Dean stated matter-of-factly, but watched Seth's face carefully for his reaction. "Well, that's no surprise, we advertise the fact, you know?" Seth smiled wryly in spite of himself.

"No, I mean he sent you messages," Dean continued. "Here's the first one: ' _Where the fuck are you_?' then we have: ' _Get your lazy ass to the gym_ ' and, finally: _'Fucking diva who do you think you are_ '. Charming." Seth shrugged. "Yeah, Brock Lesnar, people person. One upside to ditching it all." Dean was silent for a few miles and Seth wondered what was on his mind, but didn't really dare to ask.

"About that…" Dean finally managed. "Yeah?" "Let's think of a plan and let's maybe make it one where you don't lose your career." Seth felt lightheaded, but went for humor: "You don't think we are past that? I ran from the final training before Wrestlemania with someone the police… well, you know. This is still the PG era, I'm not even a heel, as if that would have been an excuse. Oh, and I took the WHC belt. If that's not the final nail in the coffin, then what is?" Dean opened his mouth to say something, but just closed it again.

"Also, you want me to dump you by the side of the road, so you can wait there until it is all sorted out? We need to think of where we are going. And how we are going to make it there. And first of all, we probably need to drop the phones. You can track those so easily, even if they are off. I think I have nothing in my car that can make it easy to locate, but…" Seth sighed. He didn't really want to go on.

"…but it's still bright red, has custom license plates and WWE Network did a special on you buying and customizing it that runs, like, five times a day." Dean finished for him.

Seth paused again. "You've seen the special?" Dean scoffed. "As I said, hard to miss it, really." _Just like that._ Seth had that strange surreal feeling that he had taken a wrong turn and ended up in an alternate universe where an important part of his – their – past had only happened inside his head. But it had happened. No matter how much he wished it hadn't.

* * *

They had tried to stay in touch immediately after Dean's goodbye show, but with one thing or another (international tours and conventions for Seth, a long end-of-career vacation and some small acting jobs across the country for Dean), they had only managed to meet up for a few hours or a day at most. It had taken months until they found a week when Seth could actually fly out to see Dean.

It hadn't been perfect. They skirted around so many topics that conversation was difficult. But other things worked. Playing video games until late at night worked, as did coming up with interesting ways to distract one another. Making out on the couch and completely forgetting about the movie on TV worked. Tying Seth to the ornamental bed-post had not worked, because he had actually managed to snap off the top half when he came, but that had hardly spoiled the fun.

And then, yeah. And then Thursday night had rolled around. They had been hanging out on the couch and Seth had playfully stolen the remote from Dean to search for the Smackdown taping. When he had found the right channel, he felt Dean stiffen all over next to him.

"You're not actually putting that on, are you?" Dean had said in a dark tone that should have warned Seth, but didn't. "Yeah, I am," he had just answered. "Told you that they gave Roman that ultra-weird promo, I want to see if he can somehow pull it off…" Dean had ripped the remote from Seth's hand, switched the TV off and threw the remote full force against the wall, making the batteries shoot out and roll across the floor. It was a picture that had stayed with Seth.

He had jumped from the couch in shock. "Fuck, you're not making me watch that!" Dean roared. Seth stared for a second and then – why, he could never explain – went into full, idiotic "attack-is-the-best-defense"-mode. He remembered yelling: "This is Roman, for fuck's sake! It's what Roman and I do! It doesn't stop just because you're out!" Of Dean's answer, Seth could remember the tips of the iceberg, the bits that still felt like daggers more than a year later. "You don't care about anyone but yourself anyway." "Come here to gloat, have you?" "I hope you are happy now, big shot!"

Their screaming match lasted almost an hour before Seth, exhausted, had bolted. He had grabbed his bag and went through the guest room and Dean's bedroom for most of his stuff. He probably forgot lots of things, but he tried not to remember what they were. He had yelled one last "Call me when you fucking got over yourself!" and slammed the front door shut behind him. He still cringed when he thought about that brilliant move.

Seth caught a late flight home almost immediately and remembered thinking how lucky this was. Later, home alone, he had wondered about luck. About getting a flight that took him so far away that when his anger finally subsided, he could not go back. Just when he thought he could not feel any worse, he found the top of the broken bed-post among his shirts in the sports bag and started to laugh hysterically, alone in his empty place.

It had not been the last time they had talked. In the morning, Seth called Dean and apologized. Dean said sorry right back. Well, if that had not been sign that the end of days was near, Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins apologizing to each other.

That week had been the last time they had kissed, though. And the last time they had fucked. All that came afterwards was… polite. And then not even that. All because of five minutes of Smackdown. And here was Dean telling him just how often his special aired. So apparently, he had gotten over it by now. It just didn't mean that he tried to get back in contact. Until now.

* * *

"So…" Seth heard Dean speak from far away. "The phones? The car? Seth, are you there?" "Yeah, thinking" Seth said, not really lying. The phones. Yes. "We could dump the phones somewhere and just drive off into the opposite direction, though that's probably kind of obvious. We could… we should dump them somewhere where they continue moving. You think that would work?" Dean shrugged. "Probably. The car is the bigger problem." "No way we can give up the car until we know where we want to go. I doubt some motel will do. We don't know how long this mess will take. And it's not likely that we'll find someone stupid enough to switch cars with us."

Again there was no answer, but when Seth turned his head, a wicked smile had spread on Dean's face. "Dean? What are you thinking?" Seth asked and found himself smile, too - against his better judgment. Dean's smile always had a direct line to him. He sometimes wished he could help this – but only sometimes. Dean just shook his head and he typed something into his phone, grinning. "Checking something. Will tell you later." "Dean, seriously, tell me!" But Seth knew he sounded more amused than angry. "You befriended someone whose great life dream is to run away from the police in a fast car? I do admit, it always kind of sounded like fun in theory…"

Seth noticed that Dean's body next to him had gone rigid and he had stopped whatever he had tried to do. "What is it?" Seth whispered.

Dean had to make two attempts to find his voice. "It's – it's Ro. Calling my phone." Seth gripped the steering wheel tighter. "You think we should answer?" he asked Dean, who still stared, motionless.

"No, can't do that. There's his family and…" Seth glances over quickly to make Dean go on. "By now, the police could be at the training centre. Might be them."

"Ok," Seth agreed, "Let's not answer just now. But… it's Roman, Dean. He'll go mad with worry." Dean's glance had shifted to his other hand and the other phone he held. "He's calling your phone now," he informed Seth, who just shrugged. "If you don't answer, I won't." Dean gave Seth a long look. "You actually _want_ to involve Roman in this?" Seth rolled his eyes and then looked back at the road. "No. I just want him to… I don't know. Not worry. Tell him we're ok."

Dean again checked both phones. "Roman sent 'Call me', to both of us". Neither man knew anything to say so Seth just drove on, finding more and more remote streets, until Dean said softly: "I don't want to get Roman in trouble. And I don't want to end your career." Seth gave a hollow laugh. "Well, we'd be about even, then."

"What?" Dean burst out in utter disbelief. It took him a few seconds until he could come up with anything more coherent to say. "You didn't end my career. You were not even in the same country when I got that final shoulder injury." _And hadn't it sucked, having to stay put, do another show the next night instead of just taking the next plane to check up on Dean..._

Seth sighed. "No, not the last one. But, seriously, how many times did I hit that shoulder, or your neck?" Dean stared at Seth in total confusion. "I never had to go to the hospital because of you! What are you even talking about?" "Just…" Seth tried to collect his thoughts. "Just… that overall, we wrestled so often, that a lot of the damage must have my name on it." Dean shook his head violently. "You know that's bullshit. It's the job! I never blamed you! Fuck, I never blamed Sheamus, and he botched the spot that took me out. That's just how it is! Could have been the other way around!"

Seth's smile didn't help anything to calm Dean down or lessen his confusion. "Yeah, and that's the way I see it…" Seth shook his head softly. "Somehow, my career would end. Can you count how often we were threatened with suspension because we did something dangerous that Creative didn't like?" Dean shrugged. "Not without taking my shoes off, and that might not be enough," he said dryly. Seth smiled softly and continued: "I was almost kicked out so often, and mostly for damned stupid stuff. So, if my career ends because of you, that's probably just delayed karma. Small miracle it didn't happen earlier, anyway. " _And if it had happened earlier_ , Seth thought, _could I have kept you from losing your grip like you did? No misdemeanors, no jail… no running from the police? Might have been worth it. But that's hindsight for you._

"And I always thought I was the insane one," Dean said, still confused but beyond arguing.  
"Yep, probably I'm insane. And you should be glad, because no sane person would do this. So. How about that place over there?" Seth pointed at a medium sized parking lot next to a major road crossing. It seemed to be neither full, nor empty and it was surrounded by a few smaller stores. Dean shrugged. "Yeah, let's stop there, see if we can dump the phones without being seen."

Seth parked the car at the far end and next to a huge van to make it less visible. He unfastened the seatbelt, pushed himself back and put his hands on his head. He took a deep breath. "Okay. Any idea where we want to go? Because then we need to guess what car goes into a different direction and dump the phones without being seen. You had a plan about the car?"

"One more thing, Seth, before we dump the phones." Dean had also unfastened his seatbelt and turned to Seth. He started a few times, stopped, took deep breaths before he managed: "What if I… what if I in some way… what if I did it? Did hurt… the woman?"

Seth opened and closed his mouth. He wondered if he had just heard that. On the second attempt, he managed: "I thought you were sure you didn't, you said that, just… I don't know, minutes ago." Dean started to move his legs restlessly. "Seth, what if… I don't know, I just don't remember. If I sleepwalked, or something." "You never sleepwalked." Seth shut his eyes and buried his face in his hands, exhausted. "What are you trying to say here?" "Just… just that I… I don't trust myself." Seth looked up and found Dean's eyes on him, pleading for an answer. Seth held on with all he had to rational thought.

"Were you drunk?" he asked. "No, I didn't drink more than usually," Dean said and looked away. "But if I hurt her on accident while I was asleep?" Before he could stop himself, Seth had put his hands on Dean's shoulders and turned him back, feeling Dean's jittery tension under his hands. "Did that ever happen, Dean?" he asked softly. Dean shook his head and for a second, he reminded Seth of a little boy, lost and alone. "Then it didn't happen this time. And if there was something so wrong with her that she died from a nudge you gave her while you were asleep, that does not mean it's your fault." "I shouldn't have slept with her" Dean whispered. Seth shrugged. "You couldn't know. You meant no harm. If me and Sheamus are not at fault for your injury, you are not at fault for hers, even if you accidentally did something that made it worse. And my money is still on the overdose." Dean moved back and Seth lowered his hands. Dean looked down at the phones in his hands again. His brow wrinkled.

"New message. Roman again. My phone. _'Dean, the police asked me to call, but now I'm alone. Call if you can.'"_ Dean met Seth's eyes, but neither man found an answer there. "So much for not getting him involved…" Seth finally said. Dean drummed his fingers on the back of the phone. "If he deletes the messages right away…"

Seth scoffed. "Yeah, that's going to work." Dean's attention was drawn by the second phone. "For you. ' _Seth, call me. I'm alone, I want to help_!'"

"We know Ro, but you have a family to support," Seth whispered towards the phone. Dean swallowed. "Another one for you: _'WTF makes you think you are helping Dean right now? You need to get him to the police!'"_ Seth met Dean's eyes again. _Can't risk it_ , Seth thought, but didn't say it out loud and looked away. "Look, Seth…" Dean started. "Maybe we can talk to Roman later. When we know what to do. From a phone they can't trace to us. Oh, one for me again. ' _I know you're innocent. We can sort this out if you come here_.' Doubt it, Ro. Doubt it."

"I hate to say it," Seth started, "But by now, there's probably no way we can make this look like anything but escape. And if there's danger of another escape…" he didn't finish, but Dean's eyes were glued to his phone again. "Another for me. ' _Why…_ " he choked up briefly and Seth felt a cold shudder. " ' _Why_ _didn't you call me'…"_ Dean's voice was brittle and Seth saw Dean's finger caress the screen ever so softly. He quickly put a hand on Dean's wrist. "Careful, he'll see that you are typing. If you still don't want to involve him…" Dean pulled back, but met Seth's eyes again. There he was again, that vulnerable boy. Dean needed a few seconds until he asked: "Will he think I don't care?"

Seth shook his head violently. "Never." They both looked at the phones in Dean's hands, but for a while, no further messages came. "Let's try and get a message to him once be figured things out." Seth said with more optimism than he felt. "We should write the number down." Dean gave a little headshake. "Know it by heart." _Of course_. "Seth, you need anything else from your phone?" Seth thought about it for a second, but it dawned on him pretty quickly that there was no-one there. No-one he would turn to. He shook his head. "No. But delete Roman's messages. I doubt it will make a difference, anyway…" But Dean was again staring at his phone. With his left hand, he handed Seth's phone back and Seth saw the messages in the old Shield message group pop up in rapid succession.

" _You know what? Fuck you. You are crazy"_

 _"The police don't know yet why the woman died."_

 _"They say they just want to talk, I believe them."_

 _"The only thing that looks really bad is that you ran."_

 _"They are not sure you are together –I am."_

 _"They think you might have forced him to come with you"_

 _"I know that's BS"_

 _"They're getting a video from the parking lot right now."_

 _"Don't know if they put out a warrant yet."_

 _"Come back. Call. It's not too late."_

"Fuck," Dean cursed. "If they see the tape, they know I didn't force you. That could have been a chance to get you out…"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Seth said just south of a yell. "If they think you kidnapped me, they are just going to look harder and consider you more dangerous. I hope they find the fucking tape! And just look at this. You don't want to involve Roman, he still tries to help us even though he thinks we lost our minds. And I'm coming with you because I don't see how you'll get through this alone! Deal with it!"

"For someone who would have sold his soul to make it to the main roster, you are fucking cool about getting out," Dean answered his voice just as strained from holding back at least a little. "Maybe," Seth said, looking away from Dean. "But maybe it's just not what it used to be." To avoid another staring match, Seth looked back at the phone and saw Roman's last message.

 _"I love you both."_

He exhaled and hung his head, but still noticed how Dean dropped his phone in his lap and buried his face in his hands. Seth felt the fight leave him and he had to put up all resistance not to touch the screen with his fingertips. He wanted to whisper the words back, just hoping that somehow, magically, Roman would feel them. But they stuck in his throat like he knew they would. _I'll get our brother back home,_ he promised Roman in the silence of his own head.

"If we just write back…" Seth heard himself say, but Dean shook his head violently. "Later. We'll find a safer way." Not trusting himself, Seth put his phone on the dashboard.  
"So, what now? What about the car, do you have a plan?" Dean nodded. "I might have. We'd have to go left at the intersection." "But you're not telling me." Dean shook his head again, more softly this time. "When I'm sure." Seth shrugged. "Okay. Whatever. So, we want a car that came from the left side of the intersection and that might be a convertible or a pick-up truck so we can maybe dump the phones?" Dean nodded and they started their look out.

* * *

It felt as if years went by. Dean, of course, was the first one to get fidgety, but soon Seth noticed how his leg had started twitching nervously in sympathy. "We're sitting ducks here, we need to find something," Seth said impatiently just as his phone on the dashboard jumped from small vibrations. He grabbed it automatically and saw Dean tense up. "Roman again?"

"No. Hunter." Seth let it ring and after a while the phone stopped buzzing. Just when Seth wanted to turn it off, it notified him that he had a new message on his mailbox. Before Dean could speak up, he pressed play without even thinking, then put it on speaker and turned towards Dean so he could hear it, too.

" _So, that's what you do when it's crunch time, you choose to that washed-up has-been over your company and all the people who protected you over the years. Fuck, you obviously had one head shot too many over the years_ ". Hunter's voice was cold and harsh. Dean made a grab for Seth's phone, but, numb though he felt, he pulled his hand away in time. " _On the day before Wrestlemania. And you fucking took the belt. The title. You dragged us all into this. All of us._ " Hunter's voice continued, now trembling with anger. Seth glanced at the gleaming title on the back seat. He felt as if he had swallowed a large rock. " _I hope you don't think you still have any place in WWE after this. I'll make sure personally that your name will never be spoken here again. You're probably so high on yourself that you think you can get away with that, come back tomorrow and everything is fine. Well, guess what, you're wrong. It makes me sick that I ever supported an arrogant jackass like you, ever put that title on you. You deserve everything that's coming to you now. Both of you do._ " There was the sound of hard, fast breaths and just when Seth thought he had heard all of it, made it through, Hunter spoke up again. " _You are dead to me. I wish you actually were._ " Then he disconnected.

After a few moments, Seth felt something on his knee. It turned out to be Dean's fingers. From far off, he heard him call his name, but it took effort to concentrate on what the other man was saying over the roar in his head. "… doesn't mean that. He doesn't. No."

Seth shrugged weakly. "I told you that road is closed. Not surprising, really…" he tried to say it levelly, but his voice betrayed him. He noticed distantly that he was shaking all over. Dean finally took his phone from him, switched it off and put both of his hands back just above Seth's knee. "It's not true," he said, looking straight at Seth. "And he doesn't mean it." Seth looked out at the parking lot, away from Dean, the sympathy in his eyes and the worry in his voice were too much to take. "Doesn't matter." "Seth."

"Doesn't. Mat… Dean, there's a pick-up truck!" Dean snapped to look through the windshield and back so fast that his neck probably hurt. "Did you see if it came from the right direction?" he asked. "No," Seth admitted. "But we've been here for too long. We need to take a chance. Can you dump the phones? I'm… I'm still more recognizable," he finished quietly. Dean squeezed his knees lightly.

"Seth, are you…" Seth straightened up and moved his legs away from Dean's hand. "I'm not going to do Hunter the favor and drop dead and I need you to stop looking at me as if I'm going to fall to pieces any second. Go, if you think that will work." Dean nodded mutely and got out of the car and Seth's space.

Seth felt numb all over, though he noticed that his legs shook less. He randomly remembered stepping into a glass shard as a child. He had looked at the foreign object stuck in his body, and knew the pain would come any second, but the moment he spent waiting, trying to brace himself for it, was almost worse. He felt no pain now, but for how long? In the short amount of time, he had lost sight of Dean, and instead stared at the store fronts, trying hard to concentrate on anything, anything but Hunter. Anything to feel better. That was when he noticed the sign. An idea struck him, but he knew he'd have to be quick.

* * *

Still, he only returned when Dean was already back, pacing around the locked car helplessly, pulling his hair. Guilt made Seth run the last few steps. "I'm sor..." he started, but the air was pressed from his lungs when Dean slammed him into the side of the car. He pushed back on pure instinct and almost made Dean fall over backwards. Seth realized immediately that his body had calculated that push for Dean as he used to be, fit as he was. He grabbed at Dean's arm to steady him, but got another shove against the car in return.

"Where did you go?" Dean growled just inches from Seth's face. "Not important," Seth murmured without meeting Dean's eyes. "I know exactly where you went anyway." The disgust in Dean's voice made Seth flinch. "I doubt that," he answered drily without looking up. That got him another shove against his shoulders and a hard grip on his upper arms.

"You called Hunter. Asked someone for a phone and called him. Tried to get back on his good side. Or you just called the police." "Really." Seth felt his body shake, trapped between Dean and his car and wondered if he would end up punching Dean in the face or breaking down in frantic laughter. "You really think I'm that full of myself? That I think I'm so great that I just have to show up and they'll take me back? After that message? Come on, Dean. If you can't believe I'm actually here for you, at least give me the benefit of not thinking I'm that incredibly stupid."

"Where. Did. You. Go?" Dean pressed on, the grip on Seth's arms tightening. Seth finally looked up, his eyes bright, and gave Dean lopsided smile. "I… I sent the belt back. There's an express delivery service over there." He lowered his voice. "And, well, as Hunter made it so very clear that he cares more about that belt than about me, the ungrateful protégée, I thought I might reunite him with the one thing that actually matters to him." Seth noticed Dean's eyes flick to the backseat of the car, where, true enough, only the sports bag remained. He added: "I think it…" but was cut short when Dean let go of his arms and pulled him into a tight hug instead.

Seth's body answered from memory, his arms closing around Dean's waist and his face buried in the crook of his neck. Dean felt thinner now, noticeably so. Seth noticed the difference, but otherwise it felt just the same. For a moment, he closed his eyes against Dean's throat and the fabric of Dean's leather jacket and allowed himself to let go, inhaling Dean's scent, feeling his chest rising against Dean's with every breath, sensing the other man's heartbeat. There was nothing else like this. There probably never would be.

But thinking like that was just so, so dangerous. Dean whispered "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" over and over so very close to his ear. He felt as if Dean's voice trickled slowly into his whole body, making him feel warm and breathless and bringing back _memories_. Seth wondered what would happen if he could just briefly put his lips on Dean's throat to kiss him. Or lick. Or bite… it was all Seth could do not to moan softly. Instead, he opened his eyes, his lashes fluttering over Dean's throat as he raised his head and he wondered if there was just the slightest hitch in Dean's breathing. _Get him out of danger_ , Seth told himself before looking up. _Nothing else matters right now. Focus_.

"I'm so sorry," Dean said one more time, meeting Seth's eyes. "I'm such a… a… " "I'd go for paranoid idiot," Seth volunteered, smiling weakly and Dean nodded agreement. "Didn't mean to scare you like that, though. Sorry." Seth didn't want the embrace to end, and everything in him screamed to just not let go, ever. But he still reluctantly lowered his arms and hated it when Dean did the same and took a step back.

"I think it doesn't matter that they will trace the parcel back here", Seth stated more matter-of-factly than he felt. "Our phones have been at this place for so long, they will know we were here anyway. Did you drop off the phones, anyway?" "Yeah," Dean nodded. "Was easy. Hid them under some camping equipment, no-one saw me." Seth turned his head, but the pick-up was still parked. "Need to see where they go. Oh, and when I got rid of the belt, I got all the cash money the ATM would give me. Not enough to buy a car, though." Dean nodded again.

"Okay, so we are ready to go. I think you should take the stuff you really need out of the bag or the trunk or anything and put them in your pockets." Seth wondered if he should ask for Dean's plan again, but didn't, and except for some spare contact lenses, he found nothing in his bag that he thought he would need again. He tried not to look at his ring-gear.

Both men got back into the car just when the owners of the pick-up truck also returned. As both men watched them, they went straight ahead at the intersection and both Seth and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "So, left it is. And from there?" Seth asked, starting their car. "I'll tell you when I see it," Dean answered. Seth grunted in general disagreement, but drove the car towards the red light anyway.

"Seth?" Dean asked and Seth turned his head. "Yes?" He noticed the soft, warm touch of Dean's palm on his right hand as Dean squeezed it for a second. "Thank you."


	6. Chapter 6

Roman was dragged back into the empty catering room that was, by now, not so empty anymore. The tables and chairs had been re-arranged, there were coats lying around and on one table there was a bunch of technical equipment of which Roman only recognized a few state-of-the-art tablet computers.

The two uniformed police officers, one male, one female, had stayed with him after making sure he would not go berserk on them. He had only struggled at first because of sheer incomprehension – no-one would tell him anything, except that they had more questions and that he would have to wait. So he did, trying to stay calm.

His wife had only managed to give him a little info before the police came and hauled him away – that everyone had gotten very, very nervous a few minutes ago and that there was talk about someone lying to them, and, of course, what had been on the video tape. Roman didn't feel surprised, just kind of numb and he didn't see how anything he could have said about Seth and Dean's relationship would make all this less baffling.

He wondered what the cops were waiting for. Were they just letting him stew? And what for? He knew nothing that could help, anyway. He hoped they were not looking to put the screws on Daniel as well. This had nothing to do with him.

When the door opened again, after what felt like ages, Detective Moore did not have Daniel in tow, but Hunter. That made even less sense to Roman. Hunter was unceremoniously pointed towards the chair next to Roman and he sat down heavily. Roman noticed sweat on Hunter's brow. All the calm businesslike demeanor had disappeared. Roman thought he had never seen Hunter like this and that made his worry double within seconds.

Detective Moore remained standing. He picked up a few pieces of paper, compared them, dropped them again. After a while, he turned his attention back on the two wrestlers.

"I don't even know where to start," he declared calmly.

Roman tried to exchange a glance with Hunter, but the other man would not meet his eyes.

"So, first of all. The video. There's your champion helping someone who just might have committed murder. Right, don't say it," Detective Moore held up one hand "We don't have audio, who knows what he was told."

With a jolt, Roman realized that he had not even considered that Dean could have straight out lied to Seth – but then he didn't think so. No. Dean was not that cold-blooded. And certainly not towards Seth. Whatever had made Seth do this was not a lie, or if it wasn't the truth, it was certainly something Dean had believed at that point.

"But then, there are the other things…" Detective Moore chose a piece of paper. "Anything you might have left out about the two of them? Their relationship? Other things that might be interesting?" Roman blinked. Should he tell…? And did Hunter know? Hunter had been close to Seth for years, he might… Maybe better to come clean now? Still, the other man did not meet his eyes and Roman made a decision. "No," he said firmly. "I don't know what you mean."

Detective Moore nodded. "Suit yourself. Then let me ask you a few things. Why did no-one feel inclined to mention that Mr. Rollins caused Mr. Ambrose a significant injury that put him out of action for several months?"

Roman frowned and Hunter shook his head in confusion. "That never happened between those two," Hunter answered, trying to regain control. "It did happen between others, but I'm sorry to say, that is an occupational hazard in this business. The men – and women - working here are not reckless. They have to leave if they are. We're professionals and we don't hold grudges, if that's what you are implying."

Detective Moore raised an eyebrow. "I was actually implying that there might be debts. Obligations. My note says Mr. Rollins put Mr. Ambrose through cinderblocks, I doubt that could be called an occupational hazard anywhere…" Hunter began to laugh nervously. "That! That was a plotline! You know, Dean had the chance to film a movie, so we had to give an explanation why he's not on our shows, so Seth "injured" him – all faked! There can't be a police report about that, he was perfectly healthy!"

Roman shot a glance at Hunter. Of course he was right. But right now, he was also laughing at the detective. In front of some of his subordinates. Still, Roman felt like he had to say something. "He's right," Roman stated curtly. "I remember that we went out to celebrate that evening, me, Dean, Seth and a couple of others. It was just plot. They were like always. No trouble there." On closer inspection, he remembered how Seth had looked at Dean that night, knowing he would not be around anymore for a while. He remembered that both men left early. Separately. Of course.

Detective Moore seemed visibly flustered and tried to shoot an angry glance at the male uniformed policeman, who blushed, but did not meet his superior's eyes.

"I'll re-check that. Mr. Reigns!" Detective Moore tried to get back into swing. "You did not think it necessary to mention that you yourself have a police record for assaulting women?" Roman was out of his seat and yelled "What?" before he noticed what he had done. He felt Hunter make a grab for him, but then the other man apparently reconsidered. Roman put both fists on the table in front of him. "I'm sorry," he said in a low, dangerous growl "But I want to know who says something like that about me, I really want to know!"

Detective Moore had moved back a little, but remained surprisingly calm. Only then Roman noticed that the uniformed cops both had their hands on their weapons. Shit. He should not have done that. Shit, shit, shit.

"A police department in Maryland," the Detective stated coolly. "Please sit down again, Mr. Reigns." Roman did so, glad for the opportunity.

"Only a few weeks back, the note says. You attacked a woman in a restaurant…" Roman and Hunter groaned in unison. "No, no, no, no, no!" Hunter almost yelled. Roman was very curious how he was going to explain that chain of events to anyone, but he was glad he didn't have to try.

"Again, that was plot. The police should not have been involved. Let me tell you from the start. Look. Roman is currently feuding with Daniel Bryan, who you already met and I'm sure you can tell that they are not actually about to kill or hurt each other." Hunter tried a weak smile that reached no-one.

He continued: "Roman is, at the moment, the bad guy and Daniel is the good guy. So, to underline that, we filmed a scene, at a restaurant, where Roman first threatened and then hit Daniel's wife, Brie, who is a wrestler as well. She's mostly retired now because she has two small kids, but she can still sell a punch – I mean, she can pretend to be hurt when she really is not. It was all planned, and we thought the local police would be informed, but somehow that went wrong and additionally to the actors playing policemen, the real police showed up and arrested Roman. They let him go in seconds. I can't believe that info has not been purged."

"Brie's out there," Roman added, waving towards the general direction of the hall. "With my wife, minding the children. You've seen her, she's the one in the red headband. She'll confirm this."

Detective Moore nodded, but there was still serious doubt visible on his face. He was silent for a few heartbeats. "Is this normal?" he finally asked, "To stage something like that in a public restaurant? There was no visible camera crew and also no other hints that this was supposed to be a performance?"

Roman saw Hunter squirm. He wondered if he should try to answer, but did not really know where to start. "It's... it could be called unusual," Hunter finally agreed. "We, you see – our ratings are bad. Very bad. Even with Wrestlemania just around the corner. Mainstream media is basically ignoring us nowadays. Look, back in the day, I would not have to explain this to you because at least someone in your team would have watched our show and known what it's about…"

Hunter received an icy glare that made it very clear that the detective did not see any upside to his team being informed about wrestling. Hunter tried to rally. "Anyway. Most press is very wary of us and they don't report plotlines on principle. So, we thought, if we make it look just real enough that maybe some outlets would be… confused… for long enough to give us some extra publicity… Our crew filmed everything on mobile phones so we could use it later for the show."

"And the possibility that some patrons of that restaurant might want to protect the lady who was attacked?" Detective Moore didn't look up from the paper. "We banked on… no-one being stupid enough to attack someone like Roman," Hunter murmured.

"Well, that sounds like a perfectly safe plan. And it solves some other mystery as well." Detective Moore's voice had taken on a steely tone and he had thrown the paper on a nearby table. "The mystery why we, the police, can't get the local news stations to send a public message that Mr. Rollins and Mr. Ambrose are wanted as persons of interest in a criminal investigation. Oh, they are polite, they say they will do so as soon as they 'checked the facts', but our word is not enough for them. And by now, I have to say that makes sense, when this… this _freak show_ of yours has acquired a reputation of doing everything to get another headline. I have a dead woman in the morgue, for God's sake! And you are not going to obstruct my investigation!"

His last sentences had reached the level of a scream and Roman just tried to move out of the way as much as possible. He had nothing to say to this and would not want to. Of course the detective would have to think first of solving the crime, still he had been relieved to hear that the official message to the press would be delayed. More time for Dean and Seth to come to their senses. More time for this to turn out alright, somehow.

Hunter, meanwhile, tried to make amends. "I'm very sorry for your trouble, and of course we want this crime to be solved, but we could not foresee that our… marketing strategy would have a negative impact on your investigation. Personally we will do everything to assist you and your…" Hunter's voice faltered and broke off as he noticed Detective Moore's glare. Roman shuddered. He would have stopped talking, too.

"Ah. I was coming to that. Your personal assistance in this case. Mr. Reigns. You did not think the simple message I asked you to send to your friends would be enough, did you? And you thought that talking to them in private would somehow be preferable to having us nosy policemen around? You know, if I'm looking for a person of interest, nowadays I'm allowed to receive copies of all messages that reach their phone?" Roman blinked. Damn. Detective Moore had picked up a tablet computer and unlocked it. Roman looked away. They had caught him, fair and square. "I thought…" but he did not know what to say. "…I'm sorry," he finished instead.

Detective Moore had found the file he had been looking for and started reading. "To Mr. Ambrose: ' _Dean, the police asked me to call, but now I'm alone. Call if you can.'_ Then, to Mr. Rollins: ' _Seth, call me. I'm alone, I want to help_!'"

He went on and on. Roman stared at the table in front of him while the detective read out his messages. He thought of Daniel, and how often his friend had ranted about surveillance and laws making it too easy to gather personal information. Roman had usually either teased him, or he had not even really listened. He made a mental note to apologize to him later.

He noticed Hunter shift in his seat uncomfortably. Roman did not meet his eyes. He did not care about his opinion on what he had done. Was Detective Moore reading out his messages to shame him? Well, that would not work. He didn't feel ashamed, just stupid that he had thought he might get away with it. "…and the last one…" he heard the detective say. " _'I love you both'._ "

Roman expected a taunt about this, but it didn't come. When he looked up, defiantly, he found the Detective staring back at him, the other man's thoughts unreadable.

"Didn't help much, did it?" the detective finally asked in a tone of pure condescension.

"No." Roman answered, hating being treated like a disobedient child. The detective nodded. "On the upside, everything you wrote was to the effect of bringing them back. And actually, I'm not completely without sympathy for your situation. On the other hand, I really, really wonder what you would have told us if either man had answered."

He made a short, artificial pause. "No, actually I don't. I'm sure you only would have told us what would look good for your friends. Mr. Helmsley!" Before Roman could even think of a reply, the policeman had turned his attention to Hunter.

Roman had not expected that Hunter could get any more rigid, but he did. "Please don't," Roman heard Hunter say in a whisper. "Oh, but fair is fair, isn't it? You heard all Mr. Reigns wrote. So let's hear what you had to say to Mr. Rollins." Roman stared at Hunter in confusion. So he had tried to reach them, too. What could be so bad… The other man would still not meet his gaze.

When the audio file started playing, Hunter buried his face in his hands and Roman froze at the harshness of the voice on tape. " _So, that's what you do when it's crunch time…_ "

Roman felt himself go ice cold first and then searing hot. It felt as if the words he heard went directly into his guts, before he could even really comprehend them. He kind of registered that the uniformed cops moved, but that information was completely lost behind the last few taped sentences. " _You deserve everything that's coming to you now. Both of you do... You are dead to me. I wish you actually were_." The silence that followed was deafening. Roman looked at Hunter, who had lowered his hands and stared into space.

 _I'll just kill him,._ Roman thought vaguely. _I'll spear him to the ground and punch him until he stops moving._

He didn't understand why his body remained still in his seat. _Because it's pointless_ , a tiny voice in the back of his head said. _And because there are two armed cops right behind you._ Ah. Okay. That's why they moved. Good idea.

But then at least he wanted to say something. Anything. But what was there to say to this? In the end, all that came out of his mouth was a cold, brittle "You didn't."

"I'm afraid he did, Mr. Reigns, but thank you for the unexpected show of impulse control." Detective Moore's voice dripped with deep, angry sarcasm. "You know, Mr. Helmsley, we tried to establish the relationship between you and Mr. Rollins. The word "mentor" shows up for you, frequently. Sometimes, there's "Seth's like a son to him". But after that, I guess that's also just for show, right?"

"No!" Hunter disagreed vehemently. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry! I was… I wrote to him, told him not to listen to it! If you have fucking everything else on that thing, you must have that!" Detective Moore looked confused for a second, but then turned his attention back to the tablet and moved his fingers across the screen.

"Ah," he said after a moment. "You're right. There's another text. _"Seth, don't listen to the voice mail. Delete it. Call me. Please. HHH."_ So, you figured out that this was not a smart move, did you? And please don't insult my intelligence by saying something like 'I tried to scare him into coming back!'"

"Oh for fuck's sake, I just saw the video and I just got so… so extremely angry, I wasn't thinking straight, it was insanely stupid, I hit the dial button before I could think… but I took it back, right away!" Hunter yelled, his voice breaking. Detective Moore consulted the tablet once more before putting it away. When he spoke again, his voice was calm, but still dangerous.

"Not quite straight away, I'm afraid, Mr. Helmsley. Because you, unfortunately, managed what Mr. Reigns didn't – you got a reaction. We can see here that the message was played. And then, seconds later, the phone was turned off. So was Mr. Ambrose's phone, by the way. It was not switched back on and your text message came later. Too late." Hunter groaned and put his face back into his hands.

"I didn't mean it… I didn't mean it," came muffled through the hands. Roman could feel his hands start to twitch through the numbness. Hunter's obvious agony didn't even touch his urge to make him pay for this message. Badly. And for a long time.

"So," Detective Moore picked the conversation back up. "Here we are. Thanks to you, as far away from an easy solution as humanly possible. You might wonder why I played you these messages. Well, I wanted you to understand what comes next."

"I can't trust you. Obviously, you can't even trust one another. That is why I'll lead the investigations from here now. Oh, and this place, from now on, is very much under lockdown. I want you, and that means not only the two of you but everyone who has any connection to Mr. Rollins or Mr. Ambrose, in a place where I know I can find them. That means here, in your hotel, and because I'm a generous person, in the arena where your show takes place tomorrow. If anyone needs to go anywhere else, I want to know. And no-one, I repeat, no-one, will have any contact with the media. That situation is bad enough already." Hunter looked up from his hands in disbelief.

"You can't," he muttered, but his mind seemed elsewhere. "There are so many interviews… so much to do…"

"Fuck the interviews!" Roman roared and finally jumped up from his chair. Two hands were put firmly on his shoulders, signaling him all the consequences available if he tried to make the slightest move towards Hunter. He breathed hard and stared down at his boss, who had shrunk in his seat.

Detective Moore stared at Hunter too, in utter disgust. "You know," he said, still in that quiet tone. "You know what I hate about this most? That a woman is dead and you don't give a damn. Neither of you does. Mr. Reigns only cares about his friends. And you, Mr. Helmsley, only care about your business."

"Personally, I believe you meant what you said to Mr. Rollins. He's only important as long as he is good for your company. Which is why you stopped caring about Mr. Ambrose quite some time ago. No use anymore. But, let me put this to you. What happens if your performers go out and talk to the press now? The press will understand that this is a very real police investigation, maybe a murder case, very soon. Of course, they won't care about the dead woman either, they care about the drama. They care about violent sport. They care about potential causes like concussions, brain trauma, and what comes after. Then they'll go back. And you know what they'll find. You know there are prece.."

"Stop. Don't go there," Hunter said weakly. "We'll do what you want. No press. Just… give me some space for a while. Time to think. Please."

Roman still stood in a fighting pose, looking down at Hunter. His thoughts were still a racing, jumbled mess, but he wondered why he had not disagreed with the detective when he claimed that Roman did not care about the dead woman. He did. He really did. But, to be honest, all his worries and thoughts were on his brothers.

There was a knock on the door and Detective Adams entered. "Good news," he said quietly, but still loud enough for Roman to hear in the otherwise silent room. "Ms. Ross was able to identify the body without a doubt. She's waiting at the precinct to be interviewed now." "No good," Detective Moore answered harshly. "Get her here. We need to keep an eye on these… people." Detective Adams looked taken aback. Roman wondered if he had expected his colleague to be more pleased.

"Okay… I'll give them another call. One more thing – small miracle really – the coroner says he can do the autopsy early this afternoon!" "Really?" Detective Moore raised his eyebrow again. "On a Saturday?" he did not look happy, though, only suspicious. Detective Adams lost his patience. "Shall I tell him to leave it until Monday, then?" "'Course not. Just… forget it. Let's get Ms. Ross." Detective Adams left the room, clearly annoyed.

 _They are all tense,_ Roman thought. _The media will catch on, and then this could be a big case. Career making. Or the opposite._ The hands on his shoulders had vanished, but he still stood, alternating between looking at the Hunter, who still seemed dazed, and Detective Moore, who was quietly seething.

"What was her name?" Roman asked. "I'm sorry?" Detective Moore said, torn from his thoughts. "The dead woman… the dead woman we don't care enough about. Your colleague said you identified her," Roman replied. Detective Moore nodded. "Right. Her name was Monica O'Connor. In her… trade, she went by Melody McLane. Does that mean anything to you?" Roman shook his head, and so did Hunter.

"I'll have questions for you, and probably everyone else, later. Mr. Helmsley, you are free to inform your people of the lockdown. For now, I need to see Ms. O'Connor's co-worker. I'll talk to you later. You can leave. Oh, one thing – you put another toe out of line I'll have you for obstruction of justice." He made eye contact with each man to see that the message was received and then opened the door and stepped away, ignoring the two wrestlers as they left the room.

Once they were alone in the hallway, Roman turned to Hunter, who flinched away from him. "I tell you one thing," Roman said with deadly calm. "If my brothers don't come home, I'll hold you personally responsible. And trust me, I'll make you regret that phone call every day for the rest of your life." To Roman's surprise, Hunter actually met his gaze, wide eyed.

"Don't you think" he whispered "that…. if this goes wrong… I will do that myself?"

Roman could see the pain in Hunter's eyes, but that was not enough. That would never be enough. "Not the way I will make you regret it," he replied and left his boss alone in the hallway.


	7. Chapter 7

***waves* Hi everyone! I finally got around to including some notes on the story at the start of the first chapter. Thanks for still reading this, I hope you'll like what's coming up!**

Hunter managed to get himself back together quickly and seemed his usual professional self when he told the locker room and the staff what had transpired.

By then, Roman had already filled Daniel and their families in. Daniel had taken no pleasure in Roman's apology and resisted the "I told you so."

"I think there's good news and bad news in this," Daniel said after a while. "Really?" Roman asked.

Daniel shrugged. "I thought you would be happy to know that Dean and Seth probably got your messages. If Seth played Hunter's message, he probably read the texts, too."

Roman nodded. "Well, too late now for anything else, the phones are off…" he said.

Daniel shrugged again. "Yes. But, who knows."

"Who knows what?" "Who knows what's on their minds. I mean, you know them way better than I do. But I'd think that they would try and get a message to you. Somehow. I wouldn't put my phone too far away if I were you. Or maybe Galina's, if they figured out that the police would catch you."

Roman shuddered. "I really don't what to involve her in this. And you think the police are watching my phone now?" "Don't worry too much, you can get away with a lot of stuff that you do for your spouse… but yeah, I would tap your phone if I had the unhappy job of solving this case." Daniel gave a pained smile.

"But that's the problem, right? The bad news in all this. They are completely out of their depth here. This is all bizarro-world for them and they just want out, quickly. And Dean's their top suspect. They don't trust us and to be honest, we didn't exactly give them reason. Seriously, what was Hunter thinking? I know he's under tremendous pressure, but this is just…" Roman just scoffed.

"I wish we could do something…" Daniel continued, staring at the opposite wall. "Maybe we could help. We are natives of bizarro-world, after all." Another lopsided smile. Roman looked at the other man intently. "What are you thinking of?" "Nothing…" Daniel said, voice far away. "For now. I don't know."

"I can't do anything now," Roman said miserably. "I think I won't get away with anything else. Not that I would know what we could do." "Let's wait and see." Daniel said vaguely. He made space on the bench for Galina, who had just returned from where Joelle was talking to some of the female wrestlers.

"Roman," she said, "I want Joelle out of here. The police can hardly complain that I don't want a preteen stuck in here all day. She wasn't happy, but she understands. I called around and your sister volunteered to pick her up, but it will take her some time." Roman nodded.

"What about you? Take Jonah as well, get out of here?" Galina shook her head. "No way. I'll stay with you. I'm not sure they would let me go. I'm their friend, too, after all. We both made them Jonah's godfathers, remember? And anyway, I'm not leaving you alone here." She put her head briefly on his shoulder and Roman stroked her back. Daniel took Brie's hand, until he had to let go again so she could fetch her runaway daughter.

* * *

They listened to Hunter's announcement without getting up or coming closer as they knew what he was going to say. The reactions ranged from outrage about being confined to relief that they would not have to appear in public. Some came over to Roman to squeeze his shoulder and say a couple of words, but most of it went past him without making any impression.

Daniel, on the other hand, continued watching them. There were differences here. A couple of people, the women first and foremost, looked shocked and worried and came up to Roman to talk. But others seemed really angry. Brock Lesnar was in another heated argument with Hunter, presumably hoping to get away from all this mess since his match would obviously be cancelled.

But others also looked pissed. He saw a group that included a red faced Rusev, Hideo Itami and Kevin Owens. From their body language, Daniel's guess was that Rusev and Kevin argued about what had happened while Hideo tried to find a way to disappear inconspicuously.

The staff started erecting some more fitness equipment in the back of the gym to keep everyone entertained and some of the larger guys started worrying loudly about catering.

Daniel had meanwhile watched the comings and goings – Stephanie McMahon had arrived and immediately disappeared towards the offices without greeting anyone. There had been some discussion between the staff and the police about whether or not they would be allowed to be on the parking lot – in the end, the police relented and now most of the staff was outside, smoking one cigarette after the other. Some of the wrestlers joined them just to get some air and to feel less trapped.

When the door opened again, there was a woman Daniel did not recognize and so he reached over to get Roman's attention.

"You think that's her? Ms. Ross, the co-worker?" "Possibly," Roman answered. Daniel watched her intently. She did not know where to go and had to find a policeman to talk to first. Daniel saw that she had been crying. Otherwise, she reminded Daniel of a head secretary – well dressed, good posture, calm facial expression.

"Brie?" he asked his wife. "What do you think of her?" "What do you mean?" Brie asked, but after casting a glance over to her, she went on. "She's older than she makes herself look. Good with make-up, that's easy to see even though she cried. Clothes are expensive. Not super expensive, but not what I would expect from a… well, but what would I know about that."

"Thanks…" Daniel turned to Roman. "Did the Detective say she was a…" he refrained from saying the word because of all the children playing close by. "Implied it," Roman answered. "Didn't straight out say." "Wonder what she'll have to say…" Daniel mused. "I'm sure she can answer a lot of our questions."

* * *

He and Roman finally decided to do some work-out for lack of anything better to do, so they hit the weights. But Daniel made sure to have one eye on the doors, even though he could not really say why. He really wanted to talk to this Ms. Ross, get info the police would not give them. Maybe get the info they would not know how to use. Roman was out, he could not risk more trouble. He himself had a clean sheet – for now. Was this worth risking it? And how should he do it?

He wondered how the woman would get home. They were in an industrial area in the middle of nowhere. Did she arrive in her own car? She did not really look in any state to be driving. Maybe the cops at the other station had put her in a cab, or driven her themselves. She didn't look as if she was poor, she might just take a cab back and pay for it herself, even though that would be pretty expensive. Or would the police get one for her again? Probably not. They were stressed. Tense. He doubted they would care. She might, maybe, take the bus. Daniel was certain he had seen a bus stop close by. Or she might call someone to get her. But that, also would take time. Galina and Joelle were still here because Roman's sister had not made the drive out here.

The two thoughts clung together. Daniel almost dropped the weight he was lifting, but then set it down gently before rushing to the locker room. He grabbed a hoodie and his wallet and sprinted back out. Just in time – the woman had just come out of the side corridor. Galina and Joelle were still sitting on the sidelines.

"'Lina, when will Ro's sister come?" Galina checked her watch. "15-20 minutes. Why?" Daniel breathed out nervously. Roman had come up behind them. "What's going on?" he asked. Daniel looked at them both and also at Brie, who listened from nearby. "I want to try and talk to the co-worker. If she has to take the bus, she might be sitting around for a while and maybe, just maybe, she'll talk to me. But I need a reason to get out. Galina, can we tell them that you and I will drop off Joelle close by?" Galina frowned. "We can try that. You think you'll find out anything useful?" "No idea. But I'd like to try." Galina nodded mutely and then called her daughter.

They had packed her stuff already and set out quickly towards the door. She told the uniformed cop her name and why she wanted to leave. "Detective Adams said that would be no problem," she added calmly. The uniformed cop wrote a short note on his clipboard and then waved them through, smiling at Joelle as they passed.

"You're gonna help Dean and Seth?" Joelle whispered when they were in the parking lot. Both adults hushed her. "I'll try, Jojo." Daniel whispered back. They turned on the street and Daniel sent all good thoughts to the universe to see the woman still there and… indeed. There she was, sitting at the bus stop, staring at her phone.

"I told Vanessa to come to the intersection over there. You got this?" Galina asked. Daniel nodded. "Take care of Jojo, I'll… see what I can do." Mother and daughter took their goodbyes and walked straight past the bus stop while Daniel considered what to do.

How should he ask? What did he really want to ask? He noticed himself stare and his steps slow down, but then he hurried up again. _Try not to be weird_. He sat down next to the woman. Brie had been right, she was older than the first glance suggested, but close up she also seemed warmer, more personable. Daniel decided that there was probably no good way to start, so he just went straight in.

"Excuse me?" he said, and the woman looked up, her eyes shining brightly, but she still mustered a warm, polite smile. "I'm sorry to disturb you. I... work for the WWE. I think you must be Ms. Ross, the colleague of the woman… Monica… who died this morning." "The woman nodded. "I am. You can call me Carolyn. And you are Daniel Bryan. My little boy loves you." Her smile widened before her breath hitched again. Daniel felt a tug at his heart. Her little boy. And why shouldn't she be a mom?

"Oh? That's sweet! What's his name? How old is he?"

"Noah. He's eight. You are his absolute favorite. Though I think he likes Seth, too." She still smiled, but there was something else in her eyes now, too. "What on earth happened last night?" she asked, looking deep into Daniel's eyes.

"I have no idea," he answered honestly. "But I think that Dean, the guy in whose hotel room she was found, did not hurt her."

To his big surprise, Carolyn nodded and turned her head away. She looked for a tissue in her purse and dabbed at her nose. "Me neither, actually. I don't think he was the guy who hired her. The police hated that, I could tell." Daniel tried not to rush her too much, but he had so many questions about this. "They don't tell us much, I'm afraid. They don't trust us," Daniel finally said.

Carolyn scoffed. "We have something in common, then. They don't like _us_ much, either… you want me to tell you what I know, right?" Daniel nodded. "Yeah. It's all very confusing, my friends are involved and I'm scared that they'll go after them because that's the easy way…"

Carolyn nodded. "I get that. You know, there's nothing won if they go after the wrong guy. So. She and I, we work… worked together for this agency. We are pretty exclusive, and we are often hired for several days. Wrestlemania in town is good business. If you get a good gig, you spend the days in a top hotel and entertain the guy in between his events. It's what I should be doing right now, as a matter of fact… We usually don't accompany people to events, though that sometimes happens, too. Mostly we just stay hidden."

"So, there was a guy who left a message, said he was in town for Wrestlemania, and asked for a companion from Thursday to Monday. He mentioned that he liked rough sex, and that is… was. That was something that Monica did very well. So she took the job. I heard the voice on the tape, but I didn't pay much attention back then and the tape has been deleted – the police checked. It was a pleasant voice, not very young anymore… but that's really all I can say. The police played me a lot of scenes from the shows and asked if I recognized the voice, but I didn't."

 _Not a smart move_ , Daniel thought. Most of his colleagues had a stage voice that differed significantly from their everyday voice. Another mistake of someone who didn't know the area.

"Anyway," Carolyn continued. "Monica called me, yesterday, early in the evening. Said the guy was out of control and that she had bailed. He had done everything you just don't do, she said – ignored her safeword. Went for her head, her face, her throat, repeatedly. She called him a brute, and trust me, Monica was tough as nails. She wasn't freaked out easily. In the afternoon, the guy had apparently come back and treated her so badly that she first bit him to get him away from her, but that only made it worse. When he was done with her, she packed her things and left."

"When she called me, though, she wasn't sure anymore. Said he did pay extra, a lot, and maybe she should go back. I told her… I told her to be safe. Damn." She shook her head and tried to hide her face behind her hair, but Daniel could see the tears run down her face. "Well, at least I can say I tried." There was bitterness in her voice now.

"Anyway. That's all I know. When we hung up, she wasn't sure what to do. But trust me on one thing: The bloodwork will come back negative for drugs. Monica didn't do drugs. I think there are two ways this went down: Either she went back, and your friend Dean was that brute. Or she met him, went with him and then died from something the brute had done earlier in the day. Because I really, really don't want to believe that on the last day of her life, Monica met two men who were cruel to her…." She paused and Daniel thought she had finished, but then she added: "I saw her, Daniel. Afterwards. Just a few hours ago. She was bruised so badly."

Daniel nodded. He wondered if it would be okay to comfort her by putting a hand on her shoulder, but then decided against it. "I'm so sorry for your loss. And that you have to go through all this now," he said. She nodded. "I'm sorry that your friend got involved, if he's innocent."

"For all it's worth – I'm almost sure that Dean was absolutely broke. He couldn't have paid for her." Carolyn smiled weakly. "Yeah, I think the police thought about that too and hated that. I heard them discuss a surprise gambling win or something. They liked the bite. They hope when they catch him, they can still find her teeth mark on his neck. They are very anxious to get him fast now." There was a pause when neither spoke.

"I don't think I've ever seen Dean Ambrose. When my boy started watching, he was already out. But Seth Rollins, he's the one with the two-colored hair, the champion?" Daniel nodded. "And he just runs from Wrestlemania with this Dean."

"They've been like brothers, for years…" Daniel tried to explain. Carolyn gave him a deeply suspicious look. "That really the word you were looking for?" she asked. "Don't forget what line of work I'm in. I know about the things that happen in almost all-male clubs." Daniel shrugged. Carolyn had been so open with him, what should he say? And she was right, of course. "I honestly don't know. It seems to be complicated," he finally told her. She smirked. "How complicated can it be when you run from the police with someone? Ah, forget it. Trust men to make everything complicated." Daniel could find no reply.

"I think the bus will arrive any minute now," Carolyn finally said. "One thing – If you really want to help, you should probably know – Monica definitely said the guy who hired her was a wrestler, or an ex-wrestler. Discretion is our job, so I don't know anything more, but she mentioned that. I know there are more wrestlers than just the WWE and many will be here this weekend, but… yeah. You might know him even if it's not your Dean." Daniel nodded.

"I… I care about who did this. I would want Dean to go to jail if he had done it. I'm just sure it isn't him. I promise you, if I find out something, I won't hold it back, even if it's someone I know." Daniel thought of his wallet in his pocket. He had brought money to bribe the woman if necessary. Now she had been friendly just like that and Daniel felt oddly dirty.

"Carolyn… Would you be offended if I gave you money for your help?" he asked. Through her sadness, she gave a short, sweet laugh that immediately made her seem younger. "You are adorable. I'm so glad Noah chose you as his favorite." She looked down.

"Monica had no family, she grew up in the system. She didn't have many friends. Sometimes she was harsh, pushed people away for no reason. She was a loner, to some degree, but once you got to know her… she was just one of the nicest and most loyal people I ever met. I want her to have a good funeral, and if you want to give me money for that, I'll accept." Daniel shuddered involuntarily at the description Carolyn had given of her dead friend. She could have no way of knowing how much it would remind him of someone else.

Without even looking, Daniel took all dollar bills he had in his wallet and pushed it into Carolyn's hand. "And, erm, shall I sign something for your boy, maybe?" Carolyn looked down again. "I wouldn't have asked, but… maybe I can shoot a short video on my phone? Or is that bad because… well… I guess you're not supposed to be out here, talking to me." Daniel looked away and smiled. "Yeah, well, but you trusted me, so… let's do this."

* * *

They finished just in time. Daniel caught himself waving after Carolyn, and then he saw Galina, who had loitered a few yards back, alone now. "She… seemed nice," Galina said when she had walked up to Daniel. "Got something?" Daniel nodded. "A lot, actually. But let's get in, we're suspiciously late already."

The parking lot was still crowded with restless people and they were waved back in without much ceremony right behind a delivery man. "You can be very, very glad that I trust you so much," were Brie's words of greeting as they returned, but there was no real harshness in them. The hall had pretty much descended into chaos and only a couple of people were still actually working on their show for tomorrow. Among all that noise, Daniel could tell his story easily.

No-one spoke for a while after he had finished. Roman was the first to find something to say. "So, if you are right and they try to make contact… we need to tell Dean to take a picture of his neck. Proof there will not be a bite mark." Daniel frowned. "True, but that won't solve all this – maybe she did not bite hard enough to leave a mark, after all. I think the police will first try to find out where Dean was since Thursday. Probably check if Monica was seen at his hotel before yesterday, we can only pray that the other guy stayed at another place… And they'll want to know how Dean might have gotten the money for a live-in prostitute. I'm sure they'll ask you if you gave him that money. If they do, we can't let them know that I talked to Carolyn." Everybody nodded, but Roman looked pained. It would be hard for him to fake something like this, they all knew it. Galina patted his arm. "You can do it. Just keep breathing."

"We'll need to find out what the autopsy report says, right?" Brie said, very quietly. Everybody looked at her in confusion. "What?" she said. "Are we trying to help or not?" Before they could discuss this any further, a staff member came over to them and made Roman and Daniel follow her. They exchanged glances, but as a matter of fact they were not led again into the catering room that to Roman felt like an interrogation room now. They were led to Hunter's office.

It took Daniel a moment to take in everything: Stephanie was in the far corner of the room, one mobile phone in each hand, trying furiously to organize something. Brock Lesnar and Paul Heyman were seated and looked venomous. Detective Moore stood behind a Hunter, who was seated at his desk, and scowled over his shoulder. Hunter himself, head in hands, looked petrified.

But all eyes were drawn to the glittering item on the desk in front of Hunter. The WHC belt. Roman had frozen in mid-stride as soon as he saw it and Daniel almost bumped into him.

"How?" Daniel asked no-one in particular. "Delivery service," Detective Moore answered. "Apparently, Mr. Rollins took Mr. Helmsley's message to heart. Didn't leave a note, though. Shame. Might have been an indicator of their intentions." For some reason, the way Detective Moore said "intentions" made Daniel go cold inside.

The detective still had his gaze fixed on the rhinestone-covered piece of leather. He seemed utterly disgusted. "Gaudy thing, up close, I must say. Doesn't seem worth the trouble."

"It's more than that," Hunter said barely audibly, almost to himself, and Daniel found himself nodding softly.

Detective Moore shrugged. "If you say so. Currently, it is evidence. Ah, thank you!" A uniformed cop had brought gloves and a large plastic bag. Detective Moore put the belt away carefully.

"What would you hope to learn from that?" It was Paul Heyman who had spoken, his voice edged with confusion and anger. Detective Moore looked startled. "Let that be my problem, please. Why exactly does this man need a lawyer around?" he pointed at Brock Lesnar. "Paul's not a lawyer" Hunter and Stephanie said in unison. "I'm a… spokesman," Paul said. Detective Moore waved that away. "I'll leave you to your meeting."

He and the rest of the police left the room. Daniel and Roman looked at each other. "Sit down, please," Hunter said finally. He looked harassed and kept staring at the empty spot where the WHC belt had lain just a few seconds ago. Daniel and Roman complied. They tried to make eye contact with Brock Lesnar, but the other man just stared ahead. Stephanie was still fixed on the phones.

"Gentlemen," Hunter finally started. "After what just transpired… it's obvious that changes have to be made to the line-up tomorrow. We can't do a World Heavyweight Championship match." "No kidding," Daniel wanted to say, but stopped himself. Brock Lesnar shifted in his chair. "But," Hunter continued, "Brock here is an important investment to the WWE, and the fans have been looking forward to seeing him fight." It dawned on Daniel slowly before Hunter had the next sentence out. "So, we will do a reshuffle. Brock will be added to your match. You'll have a triple threat match for the United States Championship."

"No fucking way!" This time, it had left Daniel's mouth before he had any chance to get back-up from his brain. "Wait, am I still supposed to win this?" Hunter nodded. "Change as little as possible of what you have already practiced. Just include Brock. You'll have the best road agents available to you and no promotion to do all day. You'll do fine, I'm sure."

Daniel just stared and then looked at Roman and Brock. Both men were just as stunned. Roman found his voice again. "You know that Daniel can't take a suplex? Medically can't? Risk of being paralyzed or dead?" "Don't!" Hunter said, with a fake calm that didn't fool any of the men anymore. "You'll find a safe way, I'm sure."

"Hunter, seriously," Paul Heyman interjected. "I know WWE would have to pay Brock a significant amount even if he didn't fight tomorrow, but that it just… I mean, there's no time to do this well and safe until tomorrow. And that's not even considering how little sense this makes plot-wise."

"Please," Stephanie said, softly, taking a step towards her husband and putting the phones down. "This situation we are in, it's so bad right now. Look, all of you are so important, are people who keep this company alive and food on the tables of everyone who works here. We're not asking you to do anything dangerous, Daniel. We'll give you all the help possible to come up with something. Just… try. And if you don't want to do it for the company- "she gave a sidelong glance at Hunter – "do it for the fans. Just try. I'm not asking any more of you."

Brock shook his head in resignation. "Not fucking likely, but okay." Finally, he looked at the other two men. "Try?" Daniel shrugged and looked at Roman, who still stared at Hunter. Finally, he looked at Daniel and Brock and then at Hunter and sighed. "Okay. But be very clear," Roman said coldly. "I'm not doing this for you." "Thank you, Roman." Stephanie said in a whisper.

The three of them, Paul Heyman in tow, went out to look for a free ring and the road agents. "Why would I even be in this?" Brock asked morosely. "You came to get a title, the Heavyweight Championship is unavailable, so you go for the US-title?" Paul suggested without any enthusiasm. "And maybe the two of them just punch you out but don't pin you because settling their blood feud is more important to them than an easy win?"

Daniel scoffed. "Very honorable of us. Might be an accidental face-turn for Roman, though." "Prevent that by having him punch out Brie again?" Brock suggested. "Yes, certainly, that was completely awful the first time around, let's do it again!" Daniel threw his arms up in despair. Brock started to turn red and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, they were all distracted by a uniformed cop who stormed towards the corridors. "We got them!" he shouted. "We got them."


	8. Chapter 8

**I blame the entire first part of this chapter on the fact that David Guetta's "Dangerous" was on the radio approximately every five minutes last summer.**

Dean guided the car to an area that Seth did not recognize, but then he had lost all sense of direction a while ago. He just hoped like hell that the stadium would not turn up around the next corner. Or the hotel. Was this even still the same city? He tried not to think about it too hard.

This area was apparently a party district – restaurants, clubs and bars, now mostly closed, some pumping out music for some party people still or already out at noon on a Saturday.

Dean had searched the car for hats and sunglasses, but when he had found an old basecap for Seth and sunglasses for himself, he had stopped talking and now his eyes seemed fixed on the street, on people, on other cars. Seth tried to guess, but he could not really tell what Dean was looking for. He did notice, though, that they were not the only flashy car around.

Occasionally, Dean would give him directions like "Make sure we make it through the intersection before the lights turn red." Or "Do a u-turn as soon as you can."  
It dawned on Seth that Dean was not going to leave the area until he had found what he had come for, but staying on one street and driving the same route repeatedly made him increasingly nervous. Someone was bound to notice them.

After what felt like the sixth turnaround, Seth had enough. "Okay, you need to tell me what we're doing here." "There's a good reason why I'm not telling you," Dean said without taking his eyes off the car next to them. "Tell me that reason, then?" Dean sighed, but didn't turn to face Seth. "You… you always said that… you perform better when you don't have time to think. Just… run and jump. Remember?"

Seth let out a long breath. "Problem is, I've had way too much time to think already, going down this street for, what, the twentieth time. So tell me already what I'm supposed to jump from." _You say jump, I say how high…_

"Okay," Dean said. "I think it might be showtime, anyway. I.. I've seen this documentary, one night when I couldn't sleep. It was about…" he hesitated and Seth shot him a glance so deadly that it just burst out of him. "Street racing in this area."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Seth was halfway proud that he had not caused a collision by stepping on the brakes. Any attempt to wrap his mind around that idea failed miserably. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that would be? And we can't start committing crimes while we try to keep you out of jail! And… what is the idea? That we try to win someone else's car?"

Through all this, Dean had stayed remarkably calm and focused. "If the documentary is right… it's not usually done that way. And if my plan works, we won't endanger anyone or commit a crime. As such. Stay in this lane please, and go a bit slower."

Seth shook his head, but complied anyway. "That must have been the most ominous 'as such' in the history of the English language…" "I know, it sounds insane, but… I think I have a plan that just might work. Trust me, just one more time, please. And… you're driving. In the end you decide where we are going." Dean had finally turned to him, but Seth found it suddenly easier to avoid the familiar blue gaze, even through the tinted glasses.

He focused on his snow white knuckles instead. They would have to get rid of the car. And maybe Dean would just try to get someone to swap with them? But who would be so stupid? It would be obvious that there was something seriously wrong. "So. Details. How is this supposed to work?" Seth asked.

Dean moved his head towards the car driving next to them. Driving there pretty unnecessarily so, Seth noticed. "Look at that guy and his car. What do you think?" Seth tried to catch a glance while keeping the car straight. "Not as young as he still wants to be, thinks he's tough, but really… tries too hard. Car's been tuned, a lot." "What's it worth, compared to yours?" Seth snorted. "Two thirds, with all the modifications, and that's being generous". "You think he did that himself?" "No idea," Seth answered. "Maybe not. I really don't know."

Dean looked ahead where a traffic light just turned red. Seth slowed down. He could hear Dean's breathing quicken. "Could we win a race against him?" he finally asked. So much for hoping that this would be done by negotiation. "Fuck do I know, Dean! My car's probably better, but… I never raced! I don't know if I can and I'm not going to race him where we could be seen and people injured and… no. No way."

Unexpectedly, Dean grinned, bright and happy and Seth found himself caught totally off guard. "So, you could win, maybe? Somewhere safer, away from here?"

"I don't… Dean, are you serious?" Seth threw his hands up as the car stopped. Dean gave him one more look. "Just say nothing and, maybe, try to look small and harmless?"

Before Seth could question this, Dean had rolled down his window and talked to the guy in the other car. Seth could not make out much through the engine noise, then the window went back up. "Follow the gentleman!" Dean said happily and pushed the sunglasses to his forehead. Seth tried another death glare, but it bounced off of Dean. He followed the other car almost automatically. _You can still just turn the car around,_ Seth told himself. He got the slight suspicion that he was not even fooling himself.

"There's an old unused airfield close by," Dean said before Seth had found something to say. "The police apparently turn a blind eye because over there, people only endanger themselves. We'll race him for money, not for the cars." Seth breathed out in sheer initial relief, before confusion set back in. "And how is this going to help us? I told you, I got cash money, and I'm really, really not sure I can win this…"

The fond little smile that Dean shot at him in answer did _something_ to his stomach that made him forget all about his worry for a moment. He turned his eyes back to the road. "Seth," he heard Dean say next to him, his voice suddenly tender. "You're good at anything you put your mind to. I thought you figured this out by now." It made Seth's cheeks grow hot in spite of himself. _I put my mind to keeping you safe, and look where we are now._ "I'll have to learn pretty fast. And anyway, what for?"

Dean put his hands behind his neck, watching their future opponent lead them to the airfield. "I think I read somewhere 'You can't con an honest man – and anyway, conning dishonest men is a lot safer and somehow more sporting.'" Seth looked at him in confusion, but Dean's eyes remained on the other car while he continued talking. "He's the type, isn't he? Thinks he's the man but really isn't – sorry, no offence." Dean smiled as Seth gave a short snort. "Likes to think of himself as dangerous, but really isn't."

"So we're conning him? What are we doing, we're the big people who can help him if he does us a favor?" Seth tried to think this through while keeping his nerves in check at the same time, but he found no solution.

"Nice one, but no," Dean answered. "We're the ones who know even less about this than he does. Someone he can feel superior to. I think he might like that, doesn't really get that too often. I think I saw some of the bigger players earlier on the street… I steered us away from them. Didn't look all that friendly." Seth shuddered involuntarily.

By now, they had followed the other car past some deserted watchtowers towards an old landing strip. "Okay, at least that's a part we might actually pull off. And then?" The other man had stopped the car and Seth had no choice but to brake, too. Dean had unfastened his seatbelt before Seth had stopped the car all the way.

He turned to Seth, but the sunglasses were down again and his hand was on the door already. "Trust me," he said. "Try to hide the blonde side, look harmless and naïve, damn, I wish you had your glasses." Dean left the door open, but Seth still could not hear what the two men were discussing.

He noticed Dean's gait, though. All unnatural swagger, fake coolness in every movement… not Dean, who always seemed the coolest guy in the room without ever trying. _Forgot already just how good an actor he is?_ Seth tried to turn his head to hide the blonde side and look at the other guy. Dean's assessment seemed pretty spot on – but then he had learned to judge people early on. How dangerous. How helpful, potentially. _That's just the thing, isn't it – this is completely crazy, but you do trust him._

Dean came back and Seth could see an excited glow on his cheeks. _He's actually enjoying this._ "Guy wants to see we have the money…" he said. Seth just plopped his whole wallet into Dean's hands. "I think I don't even want to know how much." Dean opened the wallet – and froze. "Okay. You – you got us a lot of money." "As much as I could, yeah. Glad it seems to be enough." Dean took some bills out and tossed the wallet back. More negotiation followed. Seth felt his palms go wet and he tried to remember anything at all he knew about car racing – which was done quickly enough. He knew nothing, only that stalling the car in panic would be pretty easy. Why was he going to do this, again?

Dean jumped into the passenger seat and closed the door. "So. The deal. We start here, at that red line they sprayed on the road, to the end of the runway – apparently there's a big red line as well. If it's too close to call, we repeat. Since we have the better car, he starts first and we're allowed to move as soon as we see him going." Seth groaned. "Harmless, clueless pushovers, remember?"

Dean turned to him, eyes gleaming behind dark glass. "You can still win this. I know you can. Did you ever try what this baby can do?" Seth sighed. "Wanted to. Drive to some race track and… but no. No time. Never did." "See? It's an opportunity!" Dean shot him another wide grin, but Seth's answering smile barely tugged at his lips. "And then?" he asked. "Then… then we hope for the bad in people. That's usually a pretty safe bet." Dean fastened his seatbelt. "You alright?" Seth nodded mutely, his mouth too dry to speak.

"I know you," Dean added softly, his voice going even lower. "Don't tell me you want to find out if you can do it. You always loved a challenge." Seth looked at him sideways. _Damn him. Damn him for being right._

He made sure his own seatbelt was on and brought the car into a starting position. In his mind, he replayed how to get the car into gear quickly – just like he would mentally repeat difficult spots over and over so that his brain would know the drill. Don't concentrate on how easy it would be to make a wrong move. Focus on the right sequence. Dean jiggled his leg nervously and tapped his fingers on his knees. The other guy made his engine howl loudly. He flashed a wide, cheesy grin at Dean. Then he turned his eyes towards the road, waited… and went off like a shot.

Seth heard Dean yell: "GO!" on top of his voice, but it was still background noise to the static in his brain. His own car started and it felt painfully, painfully slow. He tried to get the sequence of movements right, just right… He could not remember when he had been this focused the last time. The other car was a black flash in the distance. Finally, after what seemed like years, he felt his car accelerate under him. Dean let out a loud whoop of joy as the car started to fly across the tarmac and Seth heard himself laugh hysterically. And why not? This _was_ amazing. The force of acceleration pressed them into their seats and suddenly, the black flash came closer and closer and they were past it, which caused another high pitched whoop from Dean. Seth felt the adrenalin rush in his body and yeah, it was like doing one of the big jumps, like the moment in mid-air when there was no way back, just the trust in the people that were going to catch you and the shocked noise of the crowd all around you. Heaven, basically.

The red line went by so fast that Seth had to turn the car around hastily before crashing into a copse of trees at the end of the runway. The car drifted and then stopped. Seth felt his hands shake, his face flushed, heart beating fast and breath coming way too quickly. He turned to Dean, who had torn off his sunglasses and put his head back in a victorious howl. Seth started laughing again, and then felt he could not stop. Looking at Dean, Seth saw that he was just as flushed, and the look of pride in his eyes made Seth look down again.

Still chuckling he said: "I hate you, but I want to do this again." Dean laughed, too. "Told you you could do it," he said happily. "And you will do it again… just…" Dean saw the other man drive his car close to theirs – he had stopped speeding. Dean put on his sunglasses and was suddenly all serious again. "Make sure you have everything you need." Seth nodded.

"I'll offer him a rematch," Dean explained. "Tell him we'll go all or nothing if he can beat us in our own car. I think he'll take it, if only because it was a lot of money for him in the first place. And then… yeah. Hope. I'll signal to you if he agrees." Dean got out of the car and approached the other driver, who had also left his car. The negotiation was swift again and Seth could see the greed in the other man's eyes. Seth's car was a great one, he would be the first one to admit that. And Seth did not want to think that he was about to lose her for good. But then, it was just an item. And Dean's health was on the other side of the scales. So. No regrets. If only this works.

Dean waved with the other man's keys and Seth left his own car to join him in the stranger's car. Seth tried to walk a route that would give the other man no glance at the blonde side of his head and tossed over the car keys from a distance. The other man's leer was almost obscene, but Seth was pretty sure it was meant for the car and not for him.

Dean had already buckled up in the passenger seat. Seth scanned the interior – poser car, inside and out. But an automatic. "You could drive, if you wanted to," he told Dean, but the other man shook his head. "No. You do it. Trust you more than myself."

Seth tried to meet Dean's eyes, but when that did not work, Seth took the driver's seat and adjusted everything until he was content.

"Rules are the same as before, this time, we start first. We're losing this one. Don't rush. But don't make it obvious that we are not really trying. And, good news – he did not fix that car up himself," Dean said quietly. His legs jiggled again, but Seth had no time to wonder what exactly Dean expected to happen. His car – now the other guy's car - approached the starting line, and so Seth tried to get used to the new car and keep up at the same time. He took a deep breath. "Well, not winning should be easier, right?" he smiled and accelerated.

The car started quickly and Seth's eyes were glued to the rear-view mirror to see how the other man was doing. He could see that handling the gear shift was difficult for him. Seth really got nervous as the other man had not caught up halfway, but then he apparently found his groove and the red car left them behind in the proverbial cloud of dust. Dean sat up straight and stared past it.

"Come on," he whispered under his breath as Seth sped on, sure now that he could not catch up if he wanted to. "Come on, she's a beauty, you can't give her back now…" The red car had reached the entrance of the old airfield and Dean sucked in his breath. Seth was stuck between watching the other car, Dean's reaction and not crashing the car. "Comeoncomeoncomeon…" Dean whispered. Seth could see the red car slow down, and Dean groaned loudly, but then it sped up again – past the old watchtowers and out of sight, well past the speed limit.

Dean whooped loudly and punched the roof of the car. Seth stopped just in front of the watchtower. "Okay, what just happened here?" he asked Dean. Dean threw the sunglasses to the back. "A plan came together. I love it!" he grinned. "Meathead could not resist keeping your car a little longer. He stole your car. He. Stole Yours. Which means – how can it be wrong that we borrow his now? It's perfect!" Seth stared at Dean.

"But… but this is so stupid! We could just go to the police, there will be identification somewhere in this car…" "Sure," Dean said. "And that's why we need to go, fast, before he comes back and tells us it was just a little joyride, no harm done, all in good fun. Maybe he will, maybe he won't. But if we'd go to the police, we'd have to admit to the illegal race. Maybe he hopes we'll just cut our losses, gullible fools that we are." "But…" Seth could still barely wrap his mind around what had happened and just stared at Dean. "How could you know?" Dean shrugged. "Know the type. And then there's your car which is pretty awesome. Never seen something you just needed to have so badly that the consequences didn't matter?"

He looked straight into Seth's eyes and Seth wondered if the air had somehow got sucked out of the car. The words echoed in his head, but he found no reply. He blinked and parted his lips, unsure what to say, and saw Dean's eyes widen and look away.

"We really should be going. And with any luck, you'll get your precious back, once this is over. Get it back somehow." Seth doubted that, but he took a deep breath and kicked the car back into gear. "Where to now?" he asked Dean, quietly. Dean pulled his hair again, thinking. "Maybe a hotel, for a stop, some planning. We do have a lot of cash. And maybe we should change our appearance a little. At least we don't have to worry about the car being recognized anymore." Seth agreed. "Sounds good. I need to either cut off my hair or dye it. That's the biggest risk right now, I think."

He found himself chuckling, despite himself. "I still can't believe you pulled that off. We got another car, and we had a race. Two races. I probably should not find that funny…" Dean smiled. "We pulled that off. Without you, I could not have made it out of the parking lot."

Seth nodded and they drove on in silence. After a while, Seth asked: "Do you think we should turn on the radio? Find out what they say on the news? In the end, maybe they found the guy who hurt her, or that it was an overdose after all, and we're just on some insane road trip without a cause…" Dean gave a pained smile. "Doubt it. But… oh well."

He tried to switch the radio on, but only managed to play some weird mp3 files. Finally, Seth had enough and found the radio with two hand movements. They had not waited for long until the news came on, but with all the catastrophes in the world and some local events, there was no mention of them, WWE or Wrestlemania whatsoever. They looked at each other and shrugged. Nothing gained, nothing lost.

Seth was about to switch the radio back off when the voice of a young female host came on: "So, that was the news, but we got another story for you. Take this with a grain of salt, but apparently, the police are investigating the death of a woman in connection with Wrestlemania. Marc, what do we know?"

"Nothing all too believable, that's the point, Sheila. We got a call from people identifying themselves as police and they want us to air an announcement that they are looking for – wait for it – WWE World Heavyweight Champion Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose, who used to be another member of the SHIELD stable, in connection with the death of a woman at an inner city hotel last night. This comes on the heels (no pun intended) of a couple of WWE related incidents in which they purposefully blurred the line between their storylines and real news stories."

"So, what's your verdict?" the female voice – Sheila - asked. "You know, I don't buy it. At all. We're on the eve of Wrestlemania (which used to be a big deal, the older listeners might remember), Seth Rollins is their champ – that story is just a little over the top. As far as I know, the other stations are currently also reviewing this 'news' – no-one feels too solid about this. On the other hand, we all know what guys are capable of when they spend decades of their lives receiving one head injury after the other. Who knows, maybe we reached the point where the WWE commits murder to stay relevant? Just kidding, of course. But, in the unlikely event that there actually is something to this story, we'll just play ball…" The male announcer took on a more serious tone of voice and read:

"The police asks everyone to contact them immediately if they see Mr. Seth Rollins and Mr. Dean Ambrose…" he read a full description of them and their old car. When he had finished, he came back to his more jocular voice. "There, Sheila, I did it. You're welcome. But after that, I'm even surer that this is bu-… highly unlikely. I, for one, don't want to live in a world where the police needs the help of the public to find a guy with two haircolors in a red convertible that has his logo all over it." The female announcer laughed. "Let's get back to some brand new sounds for you…" Seth switched the radio off.

"Whoa," Dean said. Seth nodded. "I never thought the day would come when our shitty booking might actually save our asses." Dean made a pained sound. "I was actually shocked by how much they hate us. And… how heartless they are about the whole thing." "That, too." Seth shrugged. "It… just got worse after you left. I'm kind of used to it." "And you didn't see her lying there this morning. I mean I'm glad they're not hot on our heels but… the idea that someone would kill her for the headlines. Even as a joke. It's just fucked up." Seth nodded. "I'm sorry. You're right. I'm… I'm just trying to focus on keeping us safe." "Didn't blame you," Dean said quietly. "Didn't blame you at all."

They both saw the hotel at the same time. "There!" they said in unison and grinned. "Looks pretty run down," Dean commented. "I bet you can get rooms by the hour," Seth added darkly. "Perfect!" Dean smiled. "Probably not used to real names, or remembering faces, if the money is right. Two guys without any luggage - they'll probably think you picked me up somewhere…" Seth steered the car into the parking lot. "Nah. They'll probably think we're two deeply closeted married guys who are stepping out on their wives…" Seth turned to Dean and found the other man's expression unreadable. Seth felt his stomach turn. Why had he just said that?

"Er, whatever. I think we should check the car, though." Dean nodded and they inspected the trunk and every corner of the car together, but they only found junk. Neither of them looked at the name on the identification they found in the glove compartment. "Going in?" Seth asked. "Yeah," Dean said, but then added. "Wait!" With a swift movement, Dean pushed a strand of blonde hair back under Seth's baseball cap. Seth felt himself look down until Dean was finished. "I still have the money from the bet – I'll get us a room. You stay back a little, Champ."

The hotel was one tall, ugly building. Seth had wondered what it reminded him of, but then it came back to him in a flash. The building he lived in during his time in development. Old, dark foyer, musty halls, but a refurbished little flat with a kitchenette and a spectacular view over the city. Especially at night. The place where… oh, fuck. That particular part of memory lane he was not prepared for just now. _Focus_ , he thought. _Here, now._

The hotel lobby was just as shabby as expected, and the concierge – huh, what a big word for this dingy place – seemed too disinterested to have any theories about them. Good. The guy lazily told Dean that they would both have to sign "a name" – a pretty good indication of the overall truthfulness of the guestbook, Seth thought. He moved towards the counter, took the pen and wrote – and cringed slightly when he saw what his hand had written. Anyway. It was a name. He moved back again quickly before the man could get a good look at him. There were cameras, Seth had noticed, but he doubted any of them worked.

The disinterested man handed Dean some keys. "Don't use the stairs, boys. Still wet from cleaning." Seth turned to look at the old elevator at the other end of the tattered reception area and in one swift stoke, his trip down memory lane came full circle. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

* * *

It had taken less than two weeks before Seth had completely lost his patience.

Less than two weeks before, Dean "Moxley" Ambrose had strolled into development like he owned the place. Only hours later, the coaches had dared the two of them into an impromptu match, and since then things had been – different. Seth had had a game plan – be the most professional guy in the room, no distractions, eyes on the prize. Probably Dean had had a game plan, too. But all that just went out of the window on that day.

That day they had started what felt like one long match that only had breaks, but no finish, and outside the ring one long conversation. Since then, Seth kept forgetting that there were other people around, other stuff he could do. He went to bed and woke up with things he wanted to tell Dean. And, increasingly, things he wanted to do with him. They had clicked. In a way that had never happened to Seth before. He managed to keep focused on wrestling as long as he was in the ring (everything else would just be suicidal), but as soon as they were out, Seth's mind was on Dean's eyes. His curls. His abs. The way he would say "He's my favourite!" about basically every professional wrestler he had ever seen. His hands and what he could probably do with them. He fought it for about a week, but then he had to admit that had contracted the worst, most inconvenient crush since high school. Or maybe in his whole life.

Too bad that there was just no indication whatsoever that Dean had any inclination towards men. No stories. Usually, there were stories. But there was nothing. Nothing… nothing except the way Dean looked at him. Nothing except the tiny touches outside of the ring. Not enough to take the risk, really. Not with a place on the main roster within reach. Probably a good thing that this would in all likelihood lead nowhere; they were co-workers, after all. But still, it did not take Seth two weeks until he caved in.

They had all planned to go out that night after training, and during their break (spent together, as always) Dean was complaining to him that he still had not found a place to live, was still sleeping in his car. "Come to my place after the party!" Seth heard himself blurt out. Dean looked momentarily stunned and Seth racked his brain for anything to say, to explain to make this sound less… well…

"Yeah, okay, cool," Dean had said before Seth could talk himself deeper into it. Then he had just wandered off, leaving Seth with a dry mouth and a wildly beating heart. He replayed the conversation over and over and wondered how Dean might have understood what he said, but he came to no real result. He had somehow made it through the exercises of the day and rushed home briefly before joining the others at the club, trying hard to look as normal as possible. He certainly didn't feel it.

They had a few tables to themselves and of course Seth somehow ended up next to Dean without actually trying. The more people arrived, the more they were squeezed together and Seth was acutely aware of Dean's leg pressed to his and felt himself blush softly. He wondered why he was _this_ nervous and tried to hide his face behind his bottle of beer. But at least Dean was jittery, too – he could feel the typical finger-tapping just inches from his own legs. Both of them were laughing at one of Big E's stories – thank God for some distraction. Maybe he would somehow get through this evening.

But suddenly, he noticed that the drumming stopped and Dean's hand slipped slowly down to his knee – and Seth felt the lightest contact with his hand underneath the table. Soft, yet definitely not accidental. Like a question. _Were you serious before?_ Almost automatically, Seth let his hand slip closer to Dean's fingers, touching them gently with the back of his hand, then, summoning his courage, he interlaced his fingers with Dean's. _Yeah. Absolutely serious._

The unappeasable little cynical voice in Seth's head went _Oh God. You're holding hands. You really are back in high school._ But honestly, he couldn't remember having his heart stop like that in high school. He felt bubbly and warm and something about those fingers interlaced with his own just felt… right. As if he had been waiting for this for two years, not two weeks. He didn't want to let go and at the same time, he wanted out of the club as soon as possible. Seth tried his best to stay in the conversation, but his mind was jumping to the warm, promising pressure against his right hand. He could not catch Dean's eye – they were too close and Seth did not want to find out what would happen if he tried.

Rescue came in the form of Roman, who was seated on the other side of Dean. He muttered something about getting up early on Saturday to spend time with his little girl and opened the way for them to leave as well. Dean downed the last of his rum and coke, said something about apartment-hunting, and Seth came up with an important early training session. Seth felt the hand disappear from his leg and felt oddly cold ( _in a club, in the middle of July?_ ). They said their goodbyes and followed Roman to the door. Seth was quietly grateful that the Samoan disappeared very quickly into the opposite direction.

Seth's apartment was close enough to walk, and so they did. Seth enjoyed the comparably cold air, but not the silence between them, which only made him more and more nervous. So he randomly rekindled an old discussion they had, about finishing moves, of all things, but Dean only supplied the occasional "yeah" or a chuckle. He didn't even meet Seth's eyes. Finally, they made it to the high-rise apartment building that was Seth's home.

"Looks like crap from the outside, I know," Seth murmured "But the rooms are quite nice… the view is actually pretty awesome…" He was rambling and he knew it. As if he had never taken someone home, it was unbelievable. Seth unlocked the door to the foyer. They were alone, and the elevator took what felt like ages to arrive. Seth glanced over at Dean.

Somehow, the nervous energy had stopped and Seth wondered if he had ever seen Dean stand perfectly still like that, eyes on the ground, hands in his jacket pocket. Seth suddenly wondered if he might have gotten things very, very wrong. The 'ping' of the elevator felt deafening. Seth went in first, pressed the button and leaned back against the wall. _Game plan. Come on._

Dean just took a few steps and remained in the middle of the elevator, eyes fixed on the doors that closed with the speed of a moving glacier.

Still, Seth never had time to finish that game plan. As the elevator started with a jolt, Seth suddenly felt two strong, callused hands cup his face and the next moment Dean was kissing him, a kiss without warning, immediately hot and deep and coke-sweet. Seth felt a burning surge as his body answered, as he had answered to Dean's body for two weeks in the ring. He arched into him, hands slipping between Dean's jacket and his shirt, pulling their bodies close, as close as possible. He felt Dean shudder and moan and kissed him back even more forcefully, tasting, devouring Dean's tongue and lips. In seconds, his insides felt like lava and his head was a dizzy, spinning mess.

The sudden stop of the elevator and the loud ping made Dean jump back and stare at the opening doors, but they were alone. Seth's floor. Seth found himself panting. Ah, oxygen. Right. Still, next to his craving to feel Deans body against his, this didn't seem important.

He straightened up as Dean turned his head back towards him, and Seth saw his glistening wet lips and dark eyes on him that spoke of pure need. The image went straight to his core and somehow, a part of it had stayed there, right up to this very moment.

* * *

Seth could not say what made him repeat the motion almost nine years later. He put his back against the wall of the elevator and looked at Dean, in the middle of the floor, staring at his feet, looking pensive. Seth wondered what he was mulling over. They had been living in hotels for years, ridden more elevators than anyone could count. Probably Dean's mind was somewhere else altogether and seriously, that would be for the best, right?

Still, the memory had been vivid and warm and painful all at the same time. He suddenly felt cold and a shudder went through him. That got him Dean's attention, but in his gaze there was only sadness and mild worry. _The past is a foreign country_ , Seth thought and wondered where he got that from. The elevator stopped softly, without making any noise, and Seth felt slightly betrayed.

The hotel room looked better than expected, but not by much. It was basic, but then they hardly needed anything. "Okay," Dean said after a short look across the room, still apparently in thought. "I think it's best if I go out alone and get some dye, maybe a few new clothes, something to eat. A road map, maybe." Seth felt his heart sink, but he didn't answer. He had tossed the basecap on a table, but stayed beside the door, back to the wall, and watched Dean. He had dreaded this, and the moment had come. His hands played with the new car keys that felt unfamiliar and weird. Slowly, he took out his wallet to look for more money to give to Dean.

"Is there anything I can get you? What food do you want?" Seth just shook his head. "Doesn't matter." He looked at the money and the key in his hand and reluctantly offered both to Dean. Dean put up his hand to take them, but stopped in mid-move. "What's wrong, Seth?"

Seth considered going for "Nothing," but in the end that would only make this worse. He dumped money and keys in Dean's palm. "Just wondering…" he said, as calmly as he could. "… if that's the point where you take off and leave me here." He met Dean's gaze, but he didn't find what he had hoped. There was no total shock or surprise. Seth smiled bitterly. "Are you kidding me?" Dean managed, just a moment too late. "Why would I do that?"

"Because it makes some kind of sense." Seth answered coldly. "And because you can, now. You needed me to drive my car, but you can drive the new car yourself. And you could probably justify all this to yourself. I won't be in any danger anymore. And if you leave me now, I might look like the victim of your plan, maybe I could tell them you forced me, after all, who knows, Hunter might take me back… that's all bullshit, of course. But maybe you could make yourself believe that just long enough to get into the car and get out of here. Seriously, I'd just like to know. I'd rather not sit here and wait."

"Oh my God, I did not know that paranoia is contagious!" Dean said, throwing up his hands, but Seth didn't buy it. "Look, I'm not just… dumping you in this place. Not if you don't want out. Is- is that it?" "No!" Seth almost screamed "I want to make sure you stay safe, I don't want you to do this on your own, can't you understand that?" Dean gave Seth a look of utter helplessness.

"Okay," he finally said. "Screw this." He pushed the keys back into Seth's hands. "The car stays here, I'll walk. I hope you don't seriously think that I'll try to run without a car. Might be longer though before I'm back." He turned to the door, but stopped when he noticed Seth's fingers on his shoulder. He turned back around and saw the other man bite his lip. "Forget it. I'm sorry. Take the keys. Can't say I try to keep you safe and then let you walk." Dean huffed. "Well, okay, I guess we both had our crazy ten minutes now, let's forget about it. Still sure you don't want anything in particular?" Seth shook his head.

"Don't go into a shop if they have the news on TV. And… if you find some small place where they speak little English, you're less likely to be recognized… WWE did not exactly go for diversity in the last years." He gave an embarrassed smile. "Sad but true," Dean commented. Seth pushed the keys back into Dean's hand and sat down on the big double bed in the centre of the room. "Good luck," he said and smiled at Dean. Dean gave a short wave and left.

As soon as the door had closed, Seth let himself fall back on the bed and buried his face in his hands. "If you have to run off… please just do it now… at least then I'll know…" he whispered to the empty room.

 **And you made it through! Long chapter, I hope you enjoyed it anyway!**

 **The quote Dean is using is taken (very freely) from Terry Pratchett's Going Postal and the actual wording is:** ** _"There is a saying, "You can't fool an honest man," which is much quoted by people who make a profitable living by fooling honest men. Moist never tried it, knowingly anyway. If you did fool an honest man, he tended to complain to the Watch, and these days they were harder to buy off. Fooling dishonest men was a lot safer and, somehow, more sporting. And, of course, there were so many more of them. You hardly had to aim."_**

 **"** ** _The past is a foreign country_** **" is the first line from "The Go-Between" by L.P. Hartley and I really have no idea how Seth would know that ;)**

 **Song for the last segment would be "Hurt Me" by Låpsley (if that's no Ambrollins song I don't know what is).**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**_Someone_** **needs to talk about Seth and Dean's relationship. And since they are not going to do it themselves, here's Roman's take. Enjoy!**

What the police had found, it turned out, were Seth and Dean's mobile phones. But before that news had made the rounds, Daniel wondered if Roman might just die from a heart attack on the spot.

They tried to get a game-plan for their match started with the road agents, but Roman just stared at the door or the entrance of the corridor, barely hearing what anyone said.

Soon enough, the road agents had enough of that and dismissed all three wrestlers to plan on their own, although from the frowns and the headshakes it was pretty obvious that they were not making any progress.

Slight relief only came when Detective Moore strode through the hall and met another uniformed cop at the door who handed him a see-through bag containing two mobile phones. The young policeman who had shouted in excitement was standing close by, looking defiant.

"Bates, there is no reason, no reason _ever_ , to yell something like that through a room full of… witnesses. It's nice you got the phones, well done, but that hardly justifies that kind of outburst. If that happens again, you can do extra weekend duty with the traffic cops," Detective Moore said, himself much louder than he had probably wanted to be.

Daniel heard disappointment in the policeman's voice – he had fallen for the shout, too, thought they had caught their suspects. Case almost closed.

"Yes, sir!" Bates said without meeting his superior's eyes. "Where were they?" The detective enquired, more quietly and Daniel had to strain to overhear more. The young policeman's answer included the words "hikers", "hadn't even noticed" and "where they got the money and dropped off the belt."

"Roman," Daniel shook the other man by the arm. "Did you hear? They only found the phones!" Suddenly alert again, Roman tried to catch a glimpse of the little bag. "Thank God," he breathed. "And now, let's try to look a little less relieved, okay?" Daniel murmured. But they had almost no time to compose their faces before Detective Moore was upon them again.

Unexpectedly, he did not drag Roman away again, but questioned them right there and then, with their families and the still dejected looking Bates close by. Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel noticed how Brie gave the sad young policeman an encouraging smile.

"You know these?" The detective asked no-one in particular and held up the bag. Roman nodded, the other three adults made non-committing sounds. "The bigger one is the kind Seth owns," Daniel elaborated. "Couldn't say if the other one is Dean's." "I think it is," Roman volunteered.

"Good," Detective Moore said. "See, I'm going to be straight with you. It might come down to where Mr. Ambrose was from arriving in this city – we checked that – up to this morning. 48 hours, give or take. So if you know anything, now you really have an opportunity to help. Even if you didn't see him, where would he have gone? You said he wandered. Anything else? And do you by any chance know the unlock-code of his phone?"

Roman shifted uneasily while Daniel's mind raced. So the police also assumed that the woman's death might be related to the bad client she had encountered earlier. They were trying to tie this to Dean, or, in fairness, trying to eliminate him. But he had no information that could help, and he prayed to any available God that Roman would not give away what they knew.

"When he wandered around…" Roman started out slowly "He would sometimes chat to homeless people. At least he did that when we were still on the road together. Said it was good to talk to… 'normal people' some time. That's what he called it…" Detective Moore gave a cynical smile that implied for Daniel that he would agree that homeless people were a lot more normal than wrestlers.

"He might have hit the gym," Daniel hazarded a guess. "I mean, he had a meeting with Hunter, probably wanted to be in shape. Big part of our lives, working out…" Everyone nodded. "Anything else you can think of?" the detective asked.

To everyone's surprise, it was Galina's face that gave them away then. "Mrs. Reigns, you look like you have another idea, why don't you say it?" Galina pressed her dozing son closer to her chest. "Bars," she said quietly. "I think he would have gone out at night." Daniel nodded in an unsuccessful attempt to make this sound less worrying. "Ah, thanks," the detective said. "Yes, his arrest record makes that look likely. Maybe even necessary?" he looked straight at Roman, but the Samoan had put on his poker face.

"We couldn't possibly say, could we? We hardly spent time with him during the last months," Daniel pressed out. Detective Moore looked at him and Daniel wondered how long until the detective would lose his patience with him. But, for now, he let it slide.

"Bars, gyms, homeless people, well, it's a start. What about the unlock codes? Especially for Mr. Ambrose's phone, but also for Mr. Rollins'? Make no mistakes, we can crack the phones, but you'd spare us – and maybe them - time." Roman shook his head. "Dean's phone – not a clue. But he's the type to use 1111, or a straight line on a touchpad or something. But I really don't know." "And Seth?" The detective prompted. "No guarantees…" Roman sighed. "But if it's a six-figure code, my guess is 744353. He's shit at changing these things…"

The detective raised an eyebrow, but did not ask about the significance of the number. He just made sure the younger cop jotted it down. "One more thing…" the detective looked distracted, but Daniel knew a punch would follow. "I'm just giving you the opportunity to come clean now; we'll check your records anyway. Did you give any significant amount of money to Dean Ambrose recently?" Daniel exhaled quietly. At least it was a blow he had expected. All four of them shook their heads.

"You don't know Dean," Roman said. "He's extremely proud. I offered him money before, when he left WWE, but he always refused. Check whatever you like. I doubt he would take anyone's money." "Interesting, considering Mr. Rollins just took so much money from his bank account around the same time they dumped their phones." Detective Moore raised a skeptical eyebrow again.

"But of course that also tells us that Dean probably didn't have much money on him. Otherwise Seth would not have needed to do that, would he?" Daniel said without time for thought. The detective did not comment this, but gave him a long, enquiring look. Finally, he turned away again.

"Okay, that's it for now, except for one thing. I'm going to ask you to look at two pictures and tell me if you ever saw the woman on them before." The younger cop handed two sheets of paper to his superior. Before turning them around, he looked at the two women. "Please make sure that the children can't see this."

Galina put a hand protectively in front of her son's already closed eyes. Brie moved her body so that the twins, who were playing right behind her, couldn't see anything. The Detective handed her the pictures first and she held them close to her body.

"Oh," she said quietly. "No, I don't think I've seen her before." She showed them to Galina before handing them to Roman. Both just shook their head. Daniel took the pictures last. On the first one, a woman in a low cut black dress smiled into the camera. She was holding a champagne flute and her arm was around a friend's shoulder. Even though the friend was cut out of the picture, Daniel was sure it must be Carolyn.

He looked into Monica's eyes again and wondered if he imagined the fatigue he saw. Still, she had been alive, a friend, a person with dreams and ambitions. The second picture was obviously taken this morning in Dean's hotel room. Daniel could hardly recognize the woman he had just looked at under the mess of shiny bruises. Her eyes were open, her head slightly turned. If Dean had not tried to resuscitate her, Daniel could not blame him. There wasn't the slightest spark of life left.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I've ever seen her, either." He handed the pictures back. Detective Moore nodded. "That's it for now." Daniel made a split-second calculation and then went for it, hoping he had not missed anything. "Excuse me, can I ask one thing?" he said. The detective stopped in mid-turn. "Yes?" "Why… is it so important where Dean was before last night? Did… did something bad happen to the woman – _damn, did he officially know her name?_ \- before that time?"

Detective Moore frowned. "Since you seem to be the clever one around here, I think you can figure that out by yourself. No, we don't have cause of death yet, or any precise timing. But I just showed you pictures. How old did that bruises look to you? I think in your business, you can tell." He turned around briskly and handed the pictures back to Bates, who apparently had won the job of asking everyone else about the dead woman.

Alone again, Galina cringed slightly. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to make it look like Dean was… drinking, you know..." Roman put a hand on her back and Brie also shook her head in comfort. "Doesn't matter, Lina. As he said, Dean's arrest records give that impression anyway and maybe we are a little more in the detective's good books for not lying. And…" Daniel lowered his voice. "We know they want to find out if Dean is the guy who hired Monica. If they find someone who saw him in a bar at a time when Monica was with the client, that's great. You all really did not recognize her, did you?" he looked at all of them in turn, but they all shook their heads.

"Anything we can do?" Roman asked into the silence. "I think we'll have to wait for the autopsy report, if that really comes as soon as they hope," Daniel said. "Though I don't know why they would tell us the results…"

"I might have an idea there…." Brie said calmly. Daniel grinned at his wife. "And I guess I know what it is…" He shot a quick glance at Bates, the young policeman. Brie shrugged and smiled innocently. "Got to talk to him a little while you were busy. Small town boy, only recently transferred… misses his little cousins, they are just the same age as Cait, Jonah and Donny…" "You evil woman," Daniel said and kissed Brie's hair proudly.

"I also looked at everyone's neck for bite marks, but of course there was nothing," Brie added. "I mean, probably it wasn't one of us, anyway." "That, or they could always use make-up. You know the stuff they have here is great for covering up bruises…" Galina said. "I got my eyes on our phones," she added quietly. "But there was nothing that might be from them. Wouldn't know what to do in that case, to be honest…"

"Answer and give it to me," Roman said. "I'll take the consequences." "Does anyone have a spare phone?" Daniel asked, but everyone shook their head. "Too bad… Well, we don't know if we will need one."

They got some food from catering and sat back down at the sidelines, watching their children play, the road agents in furious discussion and the police making their way round the room, eliciting only headshakes from their colleagues.

Until they reached Sasha Banks. Even from across the room, it was clear to see that her reaction to the pictures was different and in split seconds, Detectives Moore and Adams were both upon her, ushering her to the sidelines, asking more questions. You hardly saw Sasha scared, and Daniel often forgot how much younger than him she was. Now you could see it plainly.

Daniel could not hear what was said, but Sasha started to use her hands more and more and her voice got louder. The policemen seemed to try to calm her, but their faces were stern. The whole hall had stopped what they were doing to look at them. Finally, it was predictably Bayley again who approached the group and somehow managed to convince the policemen to let her friend go with her.

As soon as the policemen had gone back into the corridor, Roman was on his feet like a shot and Daniel had to scramble to keep up. Roman crossed the hall in no time and was only slowed down when Bayley stepped into his way decisively. It worked. It shouldn't have, but it did.

"Roman, she needs a moment. And calm down, you look like you're about to go to war. She didn't do anything." Over Bayley's shoulder, both men could see that Sasha had found a punching bag and was now torturing it with high kicks. Roman nodded and shifted his stance, relaxing his shoulders. "Sorry. Difficult time," he said.

"Bayley," Daniel tried. "Can you tell us what happened?" Bayley bit her lip. "Sasha saw that woman at our hotel. Maybe. But she's not 100% sure and the police were really in her face about details, and if she could have been mistaken and stuff. Confused her and kind of treated her like she just wanted the attention. Idiots. I don't even know what it means that she might have been at our hotel."

Daniel exchanged a glance with Roman and started to speak, but Bayley interrupted him immediately. "Dan, don't. I don't want to know. I'm sorry. I love Dean, I love Seth. You know that. But the less I know about this, the better. Sasha, me and Paige have been working so hard on that Triple Threat. I just want to focus on that and nothing else." Daniel nodded.

"Do you know when Sasha saw the woman?" Sasha stopped punishing the punching bag and walked over. "I can hear you, you know?" she panted. "Thanks to all the questions, my mind is a total mess right now. But, okay, Ro, I know you must feel like hell right now, so I'll try, for your sake. I think I saw that woman before. Thursday around noon. I tried to check in, my card didn't work. I went back to the lobby and I think she got into the elevator when I got out. I could not see where she went. I'm not even totally sure it was her. I was at first, but then they asked what she was wearing, did she have a bag, if I smelled a perfume, who else was in the lobby at that time – I didn't think about that at that time! Hell, I don't know! I just wanted to help, but they seem to think we all…" she glanced at Roman. "We all just want to protect Dean. I'm sorry, but I don't. And I don't understand what Seth is playing at. Damn, why did I even open my mouth?"

Bayley pulled her arms around Sasha, but Sasha shook her off. "Sorry, not now. Let me get back to that bag." Sasha stomped off, and again, they had the attention of the whole hall on them.

"But, there are cameras in the hotel elevator, right?" Roman said. Bayley and Daniel gave him a sad look. "Forgot that WWE insists on turning them off, because non-kayfabe-compliant stuff might be seen and leaked?" Bayley said. "Damn. Yeah. I forgot." Roman pushed his hands through his hair and down his face. Bayley put her hand on their arms briefly and then went back to Sasha, holding the wildly swinging bag in place for the next roundhouse kick.

* * *

They had space now, Daniel noticed as he and Roman went back to the road agents, who shooed them away again immediately. Their colleagues were careful not to get too close - in a few hours, they had apparently acquired leprosy. Even Brie and Galina now sat alone with their children, the few remaining mothers had taken their kids to play a little way off.

Did people think that trouble was catching? Admittedly, it kind of was. He certainly had nothing to do with this, but he was getting deeper and deeper into it. Maybe the others were on to something. Still, he had made his choices.

He followed Roman to the workout area, and again, they were left alone. They did some cardio, half heartedly, and soon stopped and sat down. Again, no-one came even close to them, no-one tried to talk. The hall was a lot emptier now, as apparently a lot of the others had formed groups and come up with reasons to go to the arena instead, out of the claustrophobic atmosphere.

"Roman?" Daniel asked, quietly even though no-one was close. "Can I ask you something?" Roman nodded. "Sure. Always." "You said you don't really know what was going on with Seth and Dean, but… well, you must know _something_. The three of you basically lived together for years. I'm just trying to make sense of it and I really can't." Roman nodded again. "You know, that's what I have been thinking about. Really, I wasn't kidding when I said we never really talked about this, but, sure… I noticed stuff. More than they realized, especially in the beginning." Daniel gave him a question look, but allowed Roman to take his own time.

"You know, Seth and I started at FCW around the same time, and we could not have been more different. Indie veteran and complete rookie. Honestly, my first weeks, I was just lost. Happy to be closer to my family again, but so far behind pretty much everyone else. Galina and I tried to make a plan how I could make up for the lost time, and I figured I'll try to watch the guys who have the stuff I don't, maybe try to befriend them… and Seth was an obvious choice. That… didn't really work, though." he chuckled softly. "Seth was having none of it. He was nice to me, mostly, but that was that was it. Later he told me he was sure I would not last a year, anyway." Daniel rolled his eyes. "Uh, Seth, nice one. I'm sorry, Ro."

Roman shook his head. "Nah. It's cool. I started out pretty low. I never held that against him. But, you know, because of that, I got used to watching him, watching out for him." _And you never stopped since_ , Daniel thought.

"So, I was there when Dean showed up. Complete Moxley mode. Walls up as high as possible. Of course he knew who Seth was, and Seth knew him. Funny to think that you had wrestled both of them already at that time."

Daniel remembered meeting them, both so very young back then and so very passionate, on their way up, but also anxious whether they could make it big. It seemed like ages ago.

"Anyway," Roman continued, "Dean said something to Seth to provoke him, Seth shot back – they were basically bantering, it wasn't all that serious, but the trainers had had enough of Seth's ego for a while and I think they dreaded another pupil who is just as headstrong – and so they put them in a match, like, right there and then. No preparation, just 'Okay, if you both think you're the shit, show us what you can do!' Didn't work out the way they had planned."

Roman smiled a fond, nostalgic smile. "You know, quite a privilege, I think, that I was there when they had their first match. Special. Learned a lot that day. People actually cheered for them, really, we hardly did that when we watched each other's training matches. But really… what I remember best is how they looked at each other when they were done. They both seemed… thunderstruck, I don't know how to put it. I had never seen Seth like that, happy, but kind of stunned, too. And Dean, well, I had only met him hours before, but all that cool, aloof Moxley routine was out. He was grinning like, well, a lunatic. Threw his arm around Seth's shoulder. And I remember how the trainer said: 'If that's what they manage just like that, imagine what they can do with some practice'."

"After that, it was like they were attached at the hip. And I got that, I mean, they would have great shows together, that would help them to get on the main roster, but… that wasn't it, not really. And I don't know how everyone else missed that. You know, I had never thought about… if Seth likes men or women or both… I just didn't. He had mentioned an ex-girlfriend, but… yeah, I didn't care. Never mattered. But the way he looked at Dean…" Roman shrugged.

"And Dean, well, I didn't know him the way I knew Seth, but something had happened there and I was sure it had happened to both of them. Of course, I only saw that from a distance. It's not like we were friends at that point." Daniel heard the pain in Roman's voice and wondered if he should say something.

"Must have been kind of lonely for you in development…" he hazarded. Roman shrugged. "I was so happy to be close to my family, but, yeah. At first it was hard. 'He's just here because of his family'… All that shit. And I really liked a lot of the guys. I liked Seth. Funny thing is, I even liked Dean instantly. But I had to prove myself to them." He smiled sadly. "Story of my life in WWE, it seems. Got used to it." Daniel just nodded.

"Well, I actually know pretty much for a fact that they… well, that thing got physical pretty quickly between then…" Roman went back to his story. "The whole locker room went out, just days after Dean had joined, and I sat next to them and I noticed they were actually holding hands under the table. I… tried to screen them a little from the others. I think they never found out. They were a lot more obvious than they thought, though I somehow still think everyone was so busy with themselves back then that they probably never noticed. That night, the two of them left together. I was sure then. And it's not that I wasn't happy for them." _But you were lonely all the same,_ Daniel thought and wondered once more about his friend. How to some degree, he had apparently known that those two men who were basically strangers back then could be, would be his brothers one day.

"I wondered how it would go on, for the two of them. Worried, a little. If they would make it official some time. What that would mean for their careers. You know, that was the time though when I really started to improve a lot. And that was what it took to get Seth's attention. We started hanging out more, went to the gym together. Sometimes, I tried to hint that I knew, but…" he smiled self-consciously. "Talking about stuff like that was always hard for me. Never really managed. Dean got a little friendlier, too, but you know, he needs time with people." Daniel nodded again.

"And then…" Roman sighed. "And then I found out that Seth was back with his on-off girlfriend and Dean was picking up girls after shows. I don't know what happened first. I just didn't get it. In training, they just seemed as friendly as ever. Same stupid jokes, same in-depth discussion of Wrestlemania V. I wondered if I had it all wrong and I was glad I never talked about it. Galina suggested that maybe it was just a casual thing for them, no strong feelings involved, but…" Roman saw Daniel shake his head. "Ro, okay, I only saw them kiss once but even I can tell that's not true."

"And it was probably not true back then. But as it was so strange, I really though it's best if I don't get involved. It was none of my business, after all, and I finally got more respect, was treated nicer in the locker room. And there was talk of being called up. And that also changed things. Both of them tried harder to get to know me, we grew closer fast. At that point, I was sure that whatever "extra" there was to their relationship, that was over. And I almost forgot about it. We worked our asses off and finally debuted together. Started travelling together."

"You know, starting out, we usually booked triple rooms, cheaper that way. One double bed, one single bed. We usually battled for the single bed and the two of them always, always backed each other up. One of them got the single bed, I slept next to the other one in the double bed." Roman chuckled. "It must sound really stupid, but back then I just thought that I'm kind of the third wheel for them. They were friends first, they help each other to the "better" bed, they know I'm the weakest link in the team… I was so wrapped up in getting the matches straight, travelling, staying fit, and not going insane with the pressure, I did not think there might be another explanation."

"Long story short, one night I snapped, told them I'll have the single bed now and basically that they could fuck themselves. They huffed a lot, and dramatically went to sleep on the outer edges of the double bed, but finally I had one night without Seth stealing the blanket or Dean kicking my shins into rainbow colors. I finally got one quiet night, and when I woke up in the morning, well, one look at the big bed and I thought: 'Oh. Okay. Of course.'"

"They had curled up in the middle of the bed, arms, legs, blanket all woven into each other so closely that I still don't get how they actually slept like that. Dean's head in the crook of Seth's neck, his hands under the back of Seth's shirt – Seth face and hand in Dean's hair, their legs all wrapped up…. I think I just looked at them for a while. I think I never saw either of them looking that peaceful. Then I tried to sneak to the bathroom as quietly as possible and I wondered – did they try to prevent that from happening or did they just try to prevent me from seeing it?"

"When I came back out, they were awake, on opposite sites of the bed, bickering. But I caught Seth trying to read my face, and I just smiled at him… I hoped he'd understand. Again, I just didn't know how to say it. I didn't want to intrude on something… I don't know. Instead, I didn't let them bully me about the single bed anymore and when I got it, I'd get up early, get breakfast for everyone. Turns out, they would always end up in the same tangle; I think it's something their bodies just did, needed to do, without asking permission. I'd make sure they'd know I've seen them, and I don't care. And when I left them alone, I started telling them very specifically when I'd be back. So they could use the time however they liked."

"But that doesn't mean they ever behaved like a couple around me. They were just like with everyone else, really, most of the time. It was actually months later, when we were abroad, that I saw them kiss for the first time. Seth was completely jet-lagged, had almost killed himself with a botched dive and it would have been his turn to drive us to the next hotel, in the dark, in left-hand traffic. We all knew he should not do it and I felt fine, so I got into the driver's seat and Dean somehow put Seth in the back of the car – but he was completely exhausted, and kept apologizing over and over that he could not drive, I thought he might actually hyperventilate or something." Daniel nodded. He could see that easily – perfect Seth, lost when his body finally cashed in the debts he had taken out on it.

"I fiddled with the GPS," Roman continued, "And when I looked up at the rear view mirror, Seth was still breathing hard and shivering, but Dean briefly met my eyes with that strange look… well, and then I saw how he laced up their fingers, leaned in and kissed Seth, held him as close as he could… Seth froze for a moment and then stared at me in the mirror… I winked at him and he closed his eyes, kissed Dean back and the shivering stopped… I was really happy, then. For them to have each other, but mostly that Dean finally trusted me…" Roman shrugged. "That was a hard-fought battle." Daniel nodded slowly. "I always wondered how hard it must be for Dean, trusting anyone at all when all he knew growing up was that trust means weakness…"

"I think I didn't really understand how hard it is for him until much later." Roman frowned. "Probably everyone was right; I was a bit sheltered back then. But, that night, at least we got that elephant out of the room – well, at least a bit. As I said, it's not like we discussed it." "You didn't say anything?" Daniel asked. "I think I probably said that I won't drive them anywhere until they put their seatbelts on, but that was about it." Daniel gave a small snort.

"After that, I think they kissed in front of me maybe a handful of times, but only when they were drunk or exhausted or both. But…" The way Roman's cheeks colored softly gave Daniel all the hints he needed. He had after all walked in on them once without ever rooming with either of them. "I guess you can't always plan exactly when to come back to a hotel room…" he tried to help. "Yeah," Roman accepted gratefully. "And sometimes you are not as fast asleep as people might think…" he mumbled, almost inaudible. He shook his head briefly as if trying to dispel the blush that was deepening on his cheeks.

"But, you know, even then… there were these really weird moments. You know, I remember that one day when I came back to the room and they had obviously only just managed to get dressed. They were all afterglow… And then we sat down on the balcony and they started a discussion about women and what kind of woman they would want to marry. And about having kids. It was just completely surreal." Daniel considered this for a few moments. "Maybe that was for your benefit?" he finally suggested. Roman shook his head. "Nope. I actually went back inside because I just did not know what to say to that and they just went on." After a while, he added. "And, then of course there were women in their lives. And trust me, that is the one thing I really, really never wanted to question them about."

Daniel found that he could come up with quite a few theories on the spot. He knew of some relationships in the business that lived by the rule of "What happens on the road stays on the road." And he met couples who did not consider it cheating if it was with a same-sex partner. Seth's relationships tended to be pretty volatile, and Daniel had never figured out why anyone would bother with it when they were more off than on. And, of course, Daniel had met guys in completely fake relationships. All of them had to fake so much every day of their lives.

But of course there were less friendly theories. He wondered about the way Seth and Dean had apparently switched their relationship on and off, for so many years. Daniel had read about people who lived double lives to the extent that they could barely remember the other part of their existence when they were in their other role. And they all lead double lives, didn't they? No-one had ever claimed this was healthy, and Daniel knew first hand that dealing with this could take its toll on people. Maybe it made you feel less guilty in a way. Or maybe, just maybe it still made you feel guilty all the time, but quitting would just hurt even more.

Daniel shook his head almost imperceptibly – judging Seth and Dean would get him nowhere. Understanding them, on the other hand, might.

"You think they ever seriously tried to quit their… thing?" Daniel asked. "I think so," Roman answered promptly. "When we were on standby for being called up. I'm sure they were terrified they would lose that opportunity. I would have been, to be honest. But I'm sure there were other times, too, when they really tried." He paused. "You couldn't really tell when they were on or off At least I never really could. But I think I learned to see it when they were apart. When they were off, they were… edgy. The way they looked at each other changed." "For both of them?" Daniel asked. Roman gave a small headshake. "No. Easier to see in Dean. Seth… seemed cooler about it. Usually. He's always been harder to read for me. And Dean's emotions are usually pretty close to the surface. But anyway, I think they never really quit – until Dean left. Really, I thought they would have to figure themselves out by then. But…"

Roman exhaled sharply and Daniel let him collect his thoughts. "They did not meet up for ages afterwards, I know that. And when they did, they fought, but I don't know why. They never fixed it. Not really. The only thing that Seth said was that Dean had shut the door on WWE. I think he took that to mean he shut the door on him, too. Which I always found hard to believe."

Both of them stared into space for a few seconds before Daniel continued: "So, what's your take on all this? I mean, sure, you can't know for sure if you never talked about it, but you must have a theory about what's going on there?" Roman shrugged. "It's hard, really. I know they both care about each other tremendously. But of course there are good reasons not to have that relationship public. I don't know if the Shield would have happened if they had been a couple. And the main roster was the big dream for both of them. And, you know, maybe that sounds stupid… but I think both of them had always expected to end up with a wife and two kids and all that…" "Not the worst life perspective, I think." Daniel grinned self-consciously and flicked a gaze at their wives and three children present. "But that's me and you, and probably does not apply if there's someone you can't quit for the life of you…" he paused, considering this. Considering how painful that must have been.

"You think both of them felt like that?" Roman frowned. "I think Dean might have taken the leap and make this official. Maybe. But Seth… with everything that isn't the job, Seth can be so very…"

„Young?" Daniel volunteered when Roman could not bring himself to choose a word. „Yeah, and that's friendly and you know it," Roman agreed. „That's part of it. I mean, I think he grew up a lot in the last few years especially, but when we started out? If Dean was frightened that Seth would cut and run if he suggested something serious, I could not blame him. But maybe I underestimate Seth. Or Dean did. I don't know."

Daniel's eyes found Brie as he considered what Roman just told him. _Could I do that?_ he asked himself in the privacy of his own head. _Share my bed with her, be her best friend on the road, and then let her go in the morning because it might be just "Friends with Benefits" for her? And I might lose her if I try to make her mine, tell the world that I don't want anyone else in my life?_

Brie was again in conversation with the young policeman, laughing and tossing her hair back. To his surprise, Daniel found no jealousy in his heart but only fondness and trust. He compared it to the faint ache of imagining Dean's feelings for Seth during their years in the road together. _But I guess sometimes you just take what you can get and don't cry about the things you can't have._ It's what he would have expected Dean to do. Dean was not proud in that regard. And Dean was used to not expecting much from the people around him. Still, the thought tore Daniel's heart and it was all he could do not to run over and hug his wife and kids. "You think they ever even said 'I love you'?" Daniel asked quietly.

Roman's snort pulled him out of his own thoughts. „I'd bet you any amount of money that they did not. I'm not sure they can. They sure as hell can't say it to me, and you'd think that was not such a big deal. Hey, you know I say that to a lot of people. My family especially, but them, too. They can't say it back, they just make stupid jokes or freeze up. Both of them. They're both fine when it's scripted, or a joke, but when it's serious… I made that mistake with both of them when they were injured and I called them… they were just so awkward on the phone. Try to remind myself not to do that nowadays. I mean it, I do love them, but if it makes them awkward, what's the point."

"I remember when Dean said that he loved Seth in the middle of a match during their feud. I think that really freaked Seth out, even though he laughed it off backstage. That's another thing… I always felt that there was something a little too intense about the way Dean played his feud with Seth in front of the cameras. And even though he would never admit to that, I think Seth was worried for a while that… well, the rift might get real. Though backstage, again, no changes. Business as usual." _On camera, backstage, behind closed doors,_ Daniel thought. _Three roles each, three different relationships._ He found it hard to wrap his mind around that.

After a while, Roman went on. „It probably wasn't really a smart move, but I actually did try to ask them about their thing. Recently, well, at least after Dean left. I had to pick Seth up from some sponsorship event where the big shots coaxed him into getting fall-down drunk and for some reason I thought that maybe this is my one shot at getting an honest answer. I… asked him what he felt for Dean. He said: "You could never put a label on what we have." Daniel groaned and rolled his eyes. "God, Seth, seriously. That was the best he could come up with?"

Roman gave a miniature shrug. "I always thought at least it's something, isn't it?" Daniel frowned. „That might all sound nice and romantic in a teenage- "no-one understands us" kind of way, but don't you think there's something to be said for labels? Labels help you find your way. You know where you are at with a label. You know what is okay for the other person and what's not. But, admittedly, to agree on a label you would have to have a conversation about it… Christ, 'it's complicated'" doesn't even begin to cover this…" he put his head in his hands for a few seconds, but then went on. "Okay. But you said you asked _them,_ so what did Dean say?"

"He was just as drunk when I asked him. I had just picked him up from jail, and he started telling me that I shouldn't tell Seth what happened, and of course I told him that was stupid because the press would have a field day one way or another. And when I asked him what it was going to be with him and Seth, he just said that he'd fix it. Once he gets back on his feet, he'll fix things with Seth." Roman shook his head. "I believe him. I'm sure he wants Seth back, but not until he can show something for himself. A good acting gig, something wrestling related, anything."

"Sad," Daniel commented quietly. Roman gave him a questioning look. „That he thinks that he alone is not enough. Come on, Seth might have his flaws, but does not think like that. And he's not easily impressed, anyway. He probably needs someone who's just there for him." And in an afterthought, he added. "And maybe tells him how great he is, just on occasion."

Both men smiled at the memory of their absent friend. "Yeah," Roman agreed. „As it is, I think Seth just feels rejected." „And we both know, " Daniel added, „That means he'll just pretend he didn't care anyway. How many video games did he call stupid because he doesn't win every time?" "Yeah, and he didn't mind that he could not drop the WHC back to me when he got injured, 'who wants to loose anyway'?" Roman scoffed. "I wonder if he manages to fool himself with that. But I was never sure if… if the thing they had mattered to him the way it mattered to Dean."

"Well," Daniel said. „As of today, I think we can rest assured on that count. He threw his career away for him. I'm sorry to say it out loud, but he's risking his life for Dean right now. If he can't say it, fine, but don't you think what he did says "I love you" pretty loudly? And Dean must see that, right?" Roman stared into space, the grey eyes looking cloudy to Daniel's mind. "I don't know with those two. I just hope it's not too late…"

They both realized that the policemen inside the hall were getting nervous again. Something new had happened. Daniel felt Roman's whole body tense next to him and he gently put a hand on his arm. "Let's find out what it is this time," he said, trying to put more optimism in his voice than he felt.

 **Thank you for making it all the way through this (again) pretty long chapter.**  
 **Wednesday, we'll take a trip down the a lot less safe-for-work side of memory lane with Seth... I hope you'll be around! :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**So, erm, time to earn myself the mature/explicit rating...  
Longest chapter of the whole story, I hope I'll be forgiven since more than half of it is smut XD**

 **Okay, smut and mixed signals.** **Here we go!**

 **(First part is a flashback, second part is back in 2020.)**

Seth couldn't remember how they even made it to his front door back that night in 2011, but he remembered his hands trembling as he unlocked the door. He remembered Dean close, so close behind him that he could sense his body warmth even in the air of the summer night.

 _We couldn't stop now even if we wanted to_ , Seth thought with a jolt. But he could not even really imagine wanting to stop. He finally got the door open, and as soon as the both were inside, he was pushed back against the wall, hot lips claiming his own and he kissed Dean back as if he was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

His hands dug into Dean's shoulders and he pressed his body up to feel more of him, and he moaned into the kiss when Dean's cock hardened noticeably even through the layers of clothing. Callused hands pulled at his jacket and he let Dean slide it off and drop it to the floor, where Dean's own jacket soon joined it. Dean broke the kiss, panting, and Seth wondered if he saw a question in his eyes.

Seth took the opportunity and pulled the other man down the corridor into his bedroom. _He probably would and could have just fucked me standing up, there and then,_ Seth thought and the idea went straight south.

The spectacular view over the city, its tiny lights and the huge yellow moon were totally lost on them. They only mattered because they illuminated Dean's glistening lips and shiny eyes and made Seth pull him back into another kiss, slamming their lips together and meeting Dean's tongue deep in his mouth. Seth's calves pressed against the frame of the low, Japanese style bed. Dean's hands moved down Seth's back and slipped under his shirt, pulling it up.

Seth shuddered as Dean's fingers caressed his bare back and he willingly lifted up his arms to let Dean remove his shirt, pressing his naked chest instantly back into Dean's shirt while starting a line of kisses down Dean's jaw and into the crook of his neck. The moans and tugging on his hair he received in return made him feel lightheaded and he felt his lower body push even harder into Dean, wanting more, now.

"Seth?" the gravelly whisper right in his ear made the hair on his neck stand up and the dull throb in his pants worsen. _He could probably make me come into my pants right now just by saying my name again like that,_ Seth realized. He managed to squeeze an answering "Hm?" into the kisses and licks he placed on Dean's neck. "You have been with guys before, right?"

Confused, Seth stopped and a small laugh escaped his throat. "Yeah. I have," he mumbled into Dean's throat and for emphasis pulled off Dean's shirt before pressing their bodies together again. "Good." Seth felt how Dean held his head in place, making sure he listened, while Seth felt a heartbeat – his? Dean's? race in their chests. Seth closed his eyes to drink up the dark, deep voice. "Good, because I can't think of anything but just how badly I want to fuck you ever since I walked into that warehouse. Do you want me to? Want me to make you come until you forget your own name?"

A hot flash went all through Seth and he shivered in Dean's arms. "You can do whatever you want with me with that dirty mouth of yours," he whispered back almost without thinking and enjoyed the hitch in Dean's breath. _And you don't even know how much I mean this._

 _But this isn't just dirty talk,_ Seth suddenly realized. _He's asking consent. He's actually, literally asking consent._ Stunned, he wondered if he's been ever asked like this before. Or if _he_ had asked anyone like that. "Yeah, I want that…" he breathed against Dean's neck. "Condom, though."

"No problem." Dean removed his arms, presumably to grab the wallet in his back pocket, but Seth stayed his hands. "I got it," he said and swiftly took one from his nightstand, moving back fast to press his lips into Dean's neck again and then slowly kissing and licking his way down. He let his fingers run over Dean's back, playing with the scars that already felt familiar, licking at the pink nipples he had wanted to touch for what seemed like an unbearable amount of time.

Dean tossed his head back and moaned deeply, burying his fingers in Seth's hair. Seth could feel him go for the hair tie at the back of his neck and pull it off, slipping it over his wrist. When Seth went down, closing in on the tempting line of Dean's jeans, he went faster than Dean had expected and the hard tuck on his scalp made him moan hard into Dean's skin. Seth could not make out the words that Dean whispered in return except for "like that" and then the hands in his hair tightened, leaving him just enough freedom to sit down on the low edge of the bed, eye level with the buttons on Dean's jeans.

Seth tried to take his time, steadying himself and putting the condom down next to him to have both hands to slowly unbutton Dean's jeans. Dean was still now, Seth noticed, his fingers like a vice in his hair, but no movement. No twitching, just quiet anticipation.

Dean's skin felt hot when Seth ran his thumbs softly over Dean's waistband.

Against all his inner need, he opened the first button almost in slow motion, listening to Dean's body, feeling his breathing change, grow faster. He turned his eyes up to find Dean's gaze on him, watching his every move, pupils fully blown, lips slightly parted. Bright, hot electricity spread out from Seth's stomach, but he kept his eyes on Dean, even though it made his head swim still more.

He did not look away when he undid the rest of the buttons of Dean's jeans, feeling for each one carefully, moving his fingers as to graze the material of the underwear beneath it, but never too much. Not yet. Still, he could sense the heat and the tension of Dean's dick, aching to be free.

The last button undone, Seth finally turned his gaze back down, breaking the scorching connection between them. The jeans slipped to the floor without any help and so Seth moved on, pushing his hands up the back of Dean's thighs and under the fabric that covered his nice, hard ass. He let his mouth ghost over the straining bulge in Dean's pants for a moment and felt Dean's muscles clench under his hands. He took his time to slide down the last piece of clothing and watched Dean's glistening dick spring free.

Seth smiled as he saw how hard Dean was already, and how much it had grown from what Seth had glimpsed in the communal showers. He was sure Dean could feel his breath on the shining tip. Seth tilted his head up, meeting Dean's eyes again, savoring the look in his eyes, feeling electric jolts running from his throat all the way down.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he breathed, and only another hitch in Dean's breathing told him that he had said it loud enough. He thought about opening his own jeans, get at least some release while going down on Dean, but he would not, but focus all his attention on Dean instead. He needed to see how far he could take him.

He found the condom by touch and ripped the package open. Closing one hand hard around Dean's shaft made Dean shudder and Seth insides feel like goo, but still, the grip in his hair did not change, not pull him closer. Seth moved his head, his lips, closer, breathing in Dean's very own scent and with one fluent movement, licked Dean's cock all the way from the base up to just below his tip. He was rewarded with another full body jolt and slid the condom on easily.

Seth could hear Dean moan and whisper "Please…" and finally put the head of Dean's dick softly between his lips. He looked up again and found Dean's gaze still on him. Unable and unwilling to break the connection, Seth let his tongue swirl around the head, drinking in the reaction in Dean's eyes.

Putting his free hand back on Dean's ass, he could feel the muscles work, react to every movement of his lips and his tongue. Seth tried to pace himself, close the distance between his mouth and his hand by fractions only, altering the pressure, ignoring the taste of flavored rubber on his tongue and his own need to be touched. He let Dean's cock slide out and back in deeper ever so slightly in the same steady rhythm, never lowering his gaze.

 _He still doesn't push me, though._ Seth thought. No force on his scalp to go faster. No hard thrusts into his mouth. Just the soft stream of moans and whispered, scrambled, almost shy encouragements, and the little sweet reactions he felt running all through Dean's body.

Dean's tip was grazing the back of his throat now, and Seth flicked his eyes down for an instant, making sure he was breathing the right way, before easing his mouth further down, keeping his rhythm. He felt Dean's tip gliding down and choke him, and he needed a moment to adjust to just how hard the sensation made him, but then he kept hungry eyes on Dean, his pace slow and steady.

He was rewarded with a gaze becoming unfocussed and a deep, throaty growl from Dean as he threw his head back, and another hard shiver that almost made Seth lose his pace. "Holy fuck," he heard Dean whisper. "Where did you…" but the rest was lost as Seth went for the next millimeters, only pulling away ever so slightly to keep breathing. He could feel Dean's dick getting even harder now, bigger, more difficult to swallow, and damn was that worth it all by itself.

His own erection was straining against his jeans, and Dean was shivering all over now, repeating "Fuck, yes, just like that," mindlessly, both hands now buried in Seth's hair. Patience out of the window, Seth went down, down, all the way until his nose hit coarse hair. He wanted to feel all of Dean, see how long he could take it before he would run out of air, or feel Dean come undone inside of him…

"Stop, Seth, stop please." It must have taken all of Dean's strength to say this and Seth was off of him in a flash, panting, looking up half worried, half confused as Dean, still trembling, pushed his hair back from his eyes. "Don't make me come yet," he whispered, adjusting the condom. "Not yet. I wanna come when I fucked you senseless." Dean leaned down and drew Seth into another long, deep kiss and Seth realized how swollen his lips were, how raw against Dean's.

"Get a new condom?" Dean asked when they had to stop for air, but Seth just shook his head mutely. Dean stepped out of his remaining clothes, lifted him up and put him down on his back, one hand protecting his head from hitting the wooden headboard.

Protecting his head. Seth realized vaguely as Dean kissed his way down his chest and abs how much hadn't been expecting that. In his dirty thoughts, their first time had usually happened in the locker room, or in the shower, being pressed against a wall and fucked raw without mercy. What you would expect from two guys who had been beating each other up for weeks straight? But then that was bullshit, of course. Two guys who had been fighting for weeks without as much as causing a visible bruise on the other one. Sometimes, you start to fall for your own stories.

All coherent thought immediately evaporated as soon as Dean made it to the waistband of his jeans, returning the favor and unbuttoning him slowly, painfully avoiding touching him too much just yet. Seth closed his eyes and let the sensation wash over him, pushing up against Dean's touch, but feeling his hips pressed back down. Then Dean slid off his jeans and underwear in one go, exposing Seth's hard dick that was wet with pre-cum.

Seth could hear Dean's breath quicken as he leaned down and kissed his way around Seth's erection, careful not to touch him, still pushing his hips down. Seth felt his body strain against Dean's grip, his back arching with pleasure, begging for more contact. Dazed, he took a small bottle of lube from the nightstand and pushed it between the fingers that were holding him down. Dean looked up and their eyes met again, making Seth's head even fuzzier, and he thrust one of his hands into Dean's curls and pushed against the bed frame with the other.

Dean's breath ghosted over the glistening wet parts of Seth's dick and Seth moaned at the sudden cold sensation, twisted his fingers tighter into the dark blonde hair, but tried not to push up more, tried to let Dean set the pace.

One hand had disappeared from his hips and Seth now felt Dean's lubed up finger cold against his entrance, short nails circling against the rim. The moan that came from his lips probably woke all the neighbors, but Seth did not care. He tossed his head back, yearning for more, but Dean worked slowly, finally, finally entering him with the tip of one finger and when he found no resistance, pushing on.

Seth opened his eyes again to find Dean staring at him, checking his reactions, and Seth pleaded with his eyes for more. He remembered Dean's cock in his throat, all the way down, filling him up, taking him straight to the edge and he wanted that again, now. But then, looking into Dean's eyes like this did all the things to him that Dean's fingers alone could not. He felt almost spellbound by the dark gaze on him, the shining wet lips just visible in the moonlight. It made his insides feel liquid and hot and almost made him miss when Dean entered his second digit, scissoring him softly and slowly.

"Fuck me," Seth whispered towards Dean. "Please, fuck me now."

Months later, this would have caused Dean to grin wickedly, call him greedy and torture Seth with at least another fifteen minutes of mind-numbingly slow foreplay. But this first time, Seth saw Dean swallow and heard him rasp out "You sure?" Seth thought again of Dean in his throat, all of it. He nodded. "Damn sure. Please."

Dean removed his fingers, shifted between Seth's legs and lined his dick up with Seth's entrance. He pushed the tip in and Seth met him for all he could, pushing up against him, still not feeling enough of Dean inside him. Dean moved his body down towards Seth, until one hand rested on each side of his head and he could kiss Seth's lips again and again until Seth felt them burn. Then, Dean finally moved up again, eyes firmly on Seth's face and Seth felt how Dean started to push himself in all the way.

For a second, he wondered if he could stand the fire in Dean's gaze, but then again, he could not close his eyes or turn his head away either. He sensed every millimetre of Dean's cock as it slowly slid inside him, finally filling him up, finally giving him what he wanted, but Dean's eyes almost turned him inside out at the same time. The intensity of both at the same time made him wonder how long he could take this without blacking out.

When Dean bottomed out, skin pressed firmly on skin, eyes still locked, Seth felt like bursting and noticed how he had stopped breathing, to busy looking, too busy feeling.

Dean's arms suddenly buckled and he dropped on Seth's chest, his head next to Seth's in the pillows. "Fuck," he rasped in a dark voice that made Seth moan, now that he got back to breathing. "I'm sorry I won't last long as I want to, but, hell, how can you feel so fucking perfect?" The whispered words made Seth clutch Dean tightly to him, and softly, he shifted his hips and wrapped his legs around Dean so that he could fuck himself gently on Dean's dick. "You feel so good inside me, show me what you can do…" he breathed.

This at least happened the way Seth had always imagined it. Dean pushed himself up and started fucking into him with unpredictable changes in speed and depth, almost impaling him the one second, just to go on teasing him by nearly pulling out the next moment. Seth let his hands roam over Dean's back, into his curls, arched into him and tried to wriggle away in reaction to Dean's thrusts. But no matter what he did with his hips, Dean's lips were almost constantly on his own, licking, biting, falling in and out of deep kisses, sometimes trailing off down his neck but always coming back.

Dean had his eyes open most of the time, and Seth found he could not close his, but kept watching Dean's every movement, getting familiar with every line of his face, every expression, every curl in his hair. When Dean moved his lips back up to Seth's face this time, Seth could feel him shift his stance again, fucking him at a different angle, trying to read the reaction in his eyes. Almost on instinct, Seth's body answered, allowing Dean to hit just the spot he was looking for.

Seth felt his eyes flutter shut as he threw his head back and grabbed for the headboard, but found nothing on the smooth wood to hold on to. Instead, he felt fingers against his hand and as he turned his head, he saw his right hand locked into Dean's on the pillow next to him. _How the fuck are we ever going to do that in-ring again?_ he thought briefly, but then Dean hit his prostate again, and again, and Seth let himself fall into the feeling, pressing Dean's hand tight with each thrust that hit home, arching his back, trying to get more friction on his own aching dick, grabbing for Dean's hair.

He was close now; he could feel his body tingle all over and his insides burn. Still, Dean did not let up, hitting him hard with every thrust now and Seth felt vaguely how his body let go, stopped tensing but instead became almost boneless. His mind felt wrapped in cotton and his eyes closed on their own accord because the lids just felt too heavy to keep them open. He could not think, act, just feel how his whole body turned to goo, pooling hot in his belly but spreading into every fiber, Dean's thrusts like a faint pulse, firing the way he came apart…

"Seth!" His named seemed far away, like under water. The pulse had stopped and it felt like the end of the world. "Seth!" clearer now, and a soft slap, more like a pat, of a hand against his face. Seth found the strength to open his eyes and saw Dean close, sweaty, trembling, eyes dark with worry and restraint. "Fuck, Seth, are you okay?" he breathed. Seth could still feel Dean buried inside him to the hilt.

An inner flash went off, committing it all to Seth's memory: His own heavy body, the sensation of Dean deep inside him, but most of all, the expression in Dean's eyes. Another image he would take to his grave.

Seth struggled for speech, but finally managed: "Yes… so close... don't stop." He could feel Dean's sigh of relief on his face. "Okay then," he whispered, "Come for me. Come for me baby." Dean shifted to find the space to grab Seth's dick, slick with pre-cum, and stroked it softly, picking up speed to match his own thrusts. Seth felt his body tighten at the touch alone, and in no time he could feel the overwhelming rush all through his body, hitting him hard enough to make his ears ring.

His come felt hot on his chest and Dean's thrusts became wild, irregular and then he could feel him tense all over. Seth opened his eyes just in time to look at Dean again, still riding the last waves of his orgasm, gaze fixed on his face. A few moments, both of them just stared. "Holy shit," Dean finally whispered softly.

He leaned down again and kissed Seth once more, softly, almost shy. In the back of his mind, Seth could suddenly hear their trainer's voice from days before: _"If that's what they manage just like that, imagine what they can do with some practice!"_ He suppressed a laugh, not wanting to explain.

He had been right about this, though. In the following weeks, it had almost been scary how Dean had managed to find all the things he liked, wanted, needed. And Seth had also not been all that wrong about Dean having other needs, too. Somehow, he understood instinctively that pain, whether giving or receiving it, was not the occasional fun it was to him, but something deeper, darker, that Dean did not want to discuss, and with Seth, he never had to.

But what Seth had learned most of all was that what Dean needed most was trust - the certainty that just like when the arena was empty and the cameras had stopped rolling, there would be no resentment, no carrying over of what had been said and done. That behind all the show, the rules were clear, a safeword needed was spoken and a spoken safeword obeyed, secrets kept. So when months later, Seth suddenly found himself pushed hard into the wall of an empty shower stall and felt Dean enter him with one swift, delicious, vision-blackening thrust, whispering filth into his ear, Seth had the odd feeling that things had come full circle.

Back then, on their first night, Dean had insisted on finding something to wipe them down. "You stay down for a while," he told Seth as he tried to get up. "You don't even know where…" Seth mumbled drowsily. "I'll find it," Dean said, kissed Seth's lips one more time and disappeared into the flat, where Seth could hear him rummage. He turned up with a washcloth and helped Seth to clean his chest, carefully, gently, but not meeting his gaze. Then he slipped to the edge of the bed and started picking up his clothes.

"You've got to be kidding me," Seth blurted out, all lightheadedness gone, staring at Dean's back. "Man, I know you're sleeping in your car, are you serious right now?" Dean still did not turn around. "You know…" he said gently "My insomnia… look, I'd probably fall asleep now, but then I'd be awake at four a.m. and you'd be pissed and kick me out then, so…" Dean had gotten up to pull up his jeans, but he still did not meet Seth's gaze. _That's not really it_ , Seth thought to himself. But something in him made him decide not to question it but just go all in.

"Okay, I've got a better plan. You stay, and if you wake up at four a.m., you wake me up too, we switch and I fuck you until you're exhausted enough to stay in bed all weekend. Deal?" That at least got Dean's attention, and Seth tried his best innocent smile. It had been a gamble, but he was pretty certain he had seen a tell-tale twitch where Dean had not yet zipped up his jeans. And the surprised look on his face was also almost worth it in itself.

"Sure?" Dean asked softly, but Seth just rolled his eyes and moved to the far corner of the bed. "Just get your ass back to bed," he grinned and turned. He had decided on a strategy, would give Dean space, if that was what he wanted. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he heard the rustle of jeans slipping back to the floor and felt the mattress sag behind him.

He had not expected the arm that curled around his waist, and lips on his neck, a warm body pressed so very close behind him. Seth stared out into the still moonlit room. "Should probably close the curtains, if you got trouble sleeping…" he said.

"Don't get up," Dean mumbled into his neck in an already sleepy voice, warm breath caressing the hair on Seth's neck in regular intervals. Seth wanted to shake his head in confusion, but remained still, letting himself fall back into the embrace instead. He let his fingers brush over Dean's arm and his own hair tie, finally lacing them into the hand on his chest. They were both asleep in seconds.

* * *

„I can see that you have been really worried I would not come back," Dean said mockingly as he put down the bags on the table of the hotel room. "Sleeping like a baby," he added. "You really can sleep everywhere." Seth removed the arm from his face and sat up on the bed.

"I wasn't asleep," he said, not sure if it was true. "Just thinking." "What about, exactly?" _How you literally almost fucked me senseless on our first night together. And why you nearly bailed on me afterwards,_ Seth thought. "Forget it," he mumbled instead.

"Well, good thing that I actually did some thinking," Dean said and tossed something at Seth which he caught by sheer reflex. Hair coloration. Only now he realized the amount of bags that Dean had lugged back into their room. And the smell of food. "Hair first, food while we wait," Dean announced, reading Seth's thoughts. "I even remembered to bring gloves." he beamed proudly.

Seth played with the color in his hand. "Don't you think I better cut my hair off? Wouldn't that be safer?" he asked, but Dean shook his head vigorously. "No, don't. Part of your look. WWE might be less willing to take you back…" Dean saw that Seth tried to interrupt him, but kept talking. "… and even if WWE won't take you back, if you keep that hair long, you can have a hair vs. mask match or something at another promotion. You keep the hair. Maybe shave the beard, that alone will probably make you look like you're 19 again," Dean grinned. Seth nodded briefly. "I think I'll shave my hair, though," Dean mused.

"No." Seth had said it before he could stop himself. "Why?" Dean gave him a baffled look. _Because I'd miss the way it feels to curl my fingers into it. Because I've been missing that for too long already._ Seth swallowed. _Goddamn it, snap out of it, you're no help to anyone here._ "I think they would be expecting that. Or mistake you for a skinhead, or something. Dye your hair, too, maybe we'd… pass as brothers or something," Seth finished lamely. _Did any of this make any sense?_ "Hm. Should have grabbed dark contact lenses, then…" Dean mused. "But they always made my eyes water. Hm, okay, if you say so, I'll dye mine too. Brought more color than we can use anyway."

While Dean rummaged in his bags, Seth stepped into the hotel bathroom. In contrast to the bedroom, he suddenly understood why this hotel was so cheap. "Okay, we'll have to do it at the sink," he called out to Dean. "If I even look at the shower one more time, I think I'm going to gag." "Didn't know you even had a ga – " Dean's answer ended so abruptly that Seth stepped out of the bathroom to check on him immediately while his words sunk in. "What?" he asked and tried to ignore the memories that were screaming for his attention. _Get down on your knees and do what you do best._

"Nothing," Dean mumbled, his back turned, but Seth could see the blush reach up to Dean's ears. _So you're thinking about this, too._ "Can't find the gloves..." Dean told the bags. "Bought some extra towels, too..." Seth shook his head again. _Focus, for God's sake. Get the blonde patch out._ He pulled off his hoodie and his shirt and undid the bun at the nape of his neck. The blonde side felt dry and itchy between his fingers. "Got it!" Dean said triumphantly and turned, gloves and towels in hand.

Seth could feel his gaze almost like a physical sensation, going from his hair down his chest and to his abs. He could see Dean's expression change, lips parting, eyes darkening.

 _Fuck, I didn't know I needed this. Needed to know I can still do this to you._

The silence got unnaturally long, but Seth found he could make his dry mouth say anything. "You look good," Dean finally ventured, turning his eyes down and Seth heard the sadness in his voice. "Well, Wrestlemania-shape – you know what it's like. Everyone half-mad with overwork and starvation," Seth made an attempt to say it lightly. "Yeah," Dean answered, still looking away. "I know."

"Come on, let's do this. How does that color work?" Seth picked up the small box from the bed. "Okay, hair wet, color in, 20 minutes or so depending on natural color – well, ok, that's going to be interesting – wash out, put in care product. Good, easy. Got a brush or something?" Dean had put down the gloves and towels in the bathroom and went for the bags again. "Think so." He fished out several more bottles of the same hair color and also found the brush.

"Start with yours? Will be more difficult." Seth nodded. "Probably should be taking my stuff off , too…" it sounded to self-conscious that Seth almost turned his back before thinking better of it.

Under the big hoodie Dean really had become thin, thinner even than he had been some time in WWE, but it was clear that he had not stopped working out, and working out hard. "Looking good, too!" Seth said and meant it. Dean scoffed. "Well, could not show up to meet Hunter, inactive but still bulky as fuck, looking like I haven't seen a gym in years…" he trailed off. "Still, hard to keep the muscle mass…" Seth found himself staring at Dean's small waist and wondered what it would be like to lift him now, or to put his hands around those hips and… _Really, stop, Seth. Now._ "Well, then let's hurry up so we can get some food in you," Seth said, went to the bathroom and put his head under the cold tap. It didn't help. He hadn't expected it to.

Dean joined him, flinched as he felt the water temperature and turned it up without asking. With one hand, Dean rubbed shampoo into Seth's hair, one hand came to rest on Seth's back, his thumb drawing small circles on his skin. He was circling the last kanji of his tattoo, Seth knew. The one that said "Loyalty". It had always been the place where Dean's hand would land, playing with that particular spot on his skin. Loyalty. It had unnerved him sometimes, as if it was an unspoken question, like a test. Are you really loyal? Or will this mark go away if I rub hard enough? And Seth thought he had been loyal – had been there for Dean. Had kept their secret. But sometimes, he wondered if that had been enough. _Well, loyal enough to run away with you. That must count for something._

Dean turned off the tap and pushed a towel into Seth's hand. While Seth tried to brush his hair, Dean maneuvered a chair into the bathroom and ordered Seth to sit. "I'll try to do it evenly, but I don't really know what I'm doing here…" Dean said as he pulled the towel around Seth's shoulders. Seth shrugged slightly. "As long as I look less like a circus-runaway afterwards… will you dye the dark side, too?" Dean looked helpless at the box and back at Seth. "I tried to match your natural color, but it's even a little bit darker, I think… but I bought loads, just to be sure. So I could dye it all." "Do that," Seth decided. "Let's get it over with."

Seth closed his eyes and let Dean do his work. He had never cared that much about what WWE had told him to do with his looks, but while Dean ran the muzzle of the dye over his hair, he knew he was losing another piece of his career, of this era of his life. No matter. It was just hair, and Dean had not even let him cut it, though Seth doubted it would make a difference in the long run. He was spoiled goods now, probably for any wrestling company.

But then, he had vetoed Dean cutting off his hair for worse reasons. He tried not to focus on Dean's touch, carefully moving strands of hair with gloved hands, but he knew it was useless. Dean's concentration was even audible in the way he drew breath. Without opening his eyes, Seth could imagine how close to his face Dean's body would be and he breathed in the familiar scent, still very present in spite of the smell of the dye. It had been so long since they had been this close – he might as well enjoy it.

Much too quickly, at least in Seth's opinion, Dean was done – in more ways than one, as Seth found out when he opened his eyes. Dean looked as if he had just finished a major workout. "I have no idea if it's okay like this, difficult with the curls… " he said and fidgeted with the open bottle in a way that made Seth carefully steady his wrists. He checked his image in the tiny bathroom mirror, but could hardly see anything. "Will do," he announced. "Your turn."

They switched places, washed Dean's hair and Seth went to work. "Easier for you, not that much hair left!" Dean muttered under his breath. "Silly," Seth told him. "Hold still." He could feel Dean fidget under him to the point where Seth took off one glove and just put a hand on the towel on Deans shoulder, as if to steady himself. _I got you, remember?_ he thought, willing the idea to enter Dean through the hand on his shoulder. _No matter what we're doing, I got you. You're safe with me._ Slowly, Seth could feel the muscles under his hand relax. And did he lean into him just a little bit? Seth felt a little tug at his heart, but went on with his task.

Doing Dean's shorter hair really did not take much time. "We forgot to set a clock," Dean realized. "Well, we'll have to guess now," Seth considered. "But let's eat, anyway. What did you get us?" Dean grinned. "Took your advice, went into a store where I could not even guess what nationality they were. Ordered blindly by number – I hope there's nothing in there you ever had as pet, but I'll give no guarantees…" They had cleaned the bathroom and put anything that could stain in plastic bags as far as they could before they went back to the tower of bags that Dean had brought. "Smells delicious, anyway," Seth commented and opened the first container that he picked up. They sat on the bed and ate, trying to keep their heads steady, and Seth was glad to find that the dead animal in his lunch had probably been a chicken.

"So, what else did you buy there?" he asked Dean in between bites. "Clothes, for one" Dean answered, mouth half-full. "Found a store where they sold knock-off suits and stuff. Thought that might be a good idea – I mean, we're both in pretty baggy stuff right now, we'd be less recognizable if we dress up… Got a few trousers, shirts, jackets. Had to guess your size, but the stuff was incredibly cheap and I had more than enough money… most of the stuff will be too small for you, I guess…" Seth felt Dean's gaze on his shoulders and arms and hoped the blush would be attributed to the hot food.

"Good thinking. Anything else?" Dean swallowed and poked distractedly at his food. "I… I got pre-paid phones. To call Ro. Tell him not to worry." "Maybe get some info what's going on, if we're really lucky…" Seth added. "You think it's safe to call him from that pre-paid?" Dean asked. Seth sighed in return. "We know the police are with them. And Roman sent us all these messages behind their backs… honestly, I think they would be very stupid not to monitor his phone. It's no secret how much he cares about us. We call, they get the location, they can basically pick us up. We need to be smarter about this…" he took a few more bites of his food. "Damn. I should have listened more closely when Daniel rambles about surveillance of the population and stuff." Dean snorted into his food.

"I remember though that pictures are less easy to intercept than text. Maybe we send a picture, telling him that he should call our number, but not from his phone?" Seth asked. Dean put down his box and went for the bags. "Phones have no camera…" he announced. "Maybe that's not so bad…" Seth mused. "Look, if we send this from the prepaid, it's still strange and maybe they'll investigate…. Do you think there is any chance we can get to someone's phone long enough to send a picture to Roman?" Dean frowned. "You have a lot of faith in my criminal energy, I can tell. But yeah. I think I know how I would do that. So, we would write the pre-pay number and that he should not use his own phone to call us on a card, get to someone else's phone, take a picture and send that? Risky." "Yes," Seth agreed. "More risk for us. Probably least risky for Ro." Dean nodded. There was no need to say that they agreed.

"Should we try to make the card less suspicious somehow? If they do look at everything that reaches Ro's phone?" Seth finished his food and had to stop himself mid-movement before running his hands through his hair accidentally. "What kind of messages is Roman probably getting right now?" "Well wishes for tomorrow." Dean answered immediately. "Probably from every aunt and cousin, his phone is probably about to burst anyway…"

"Good!" Seth decided. "Then that's what we do. Get a card. Write the message to Roman as if we are some wacky aunt who did not really make the transition from real cards to e-cards and so sends photos of her hand-written cards. Wish him good luck and, oh, I've got a new number, call me, but not from your mobile, that's so expensive." He looked up at Dean and saw the other man smile broadly. "Would really suck if we accidentally choose the name of a real aunt. Hell. I don't know all their names. Ro probably doesn't. I hope he just recognizes our handwriting. But, okay, good idea. We need to think how to word this thing so that he gets what we mean, but yeah."

Again, Seth stopped himself just in time before reaching for his hair. "I think I need to get that stuff out. Starts to itch." He announced. "Sure." Dean took the empty food containers and put then in an empty bag. "Oh, of course, forgot –" Dean grabbed for another bag and handed over bottled water. "Need to keep you hydrated." He smiled and Seth almost dropped the bottle as he needed to stomp on yet another memory. _Blissful exhaustion, ropes holding his wrists, lips cracked, and then a hand on the back of his head and water on his lips. "Need to keep you hydrated, baby. I'll take good care of you."_ Seth groaned inwardly and turned towards the bathroom. "Let's see how this turned out then."

Seth thought that it took ages until the water in the basin finally stayed clear enough and he could feel his neck complaining about the unnatural position. _Escaped a match against Brock Lesnar just to ruin his neck while dyeing his hair. Priceless._ He wrapped his head into one of the towels he brought and tried to massage the muscles on his neck briefly. "You good?" Dean asked, a pained expression on his face. Seth shrugged in reply. "Not too bad. You think it turned out okay?" Dean's face gave him away before he had said the words. "Not sure, to be honest." Seth pulled out a few strands and glanced at them. "Hm. Let's wait until it's dry, do yours."

They switched positions again and Seth watched Dean fold himself up to get his head under the tap. "Shoulder hurt much?" he asked quietly, taking in the slightly asymmetrical stance. "Not more than always," Dean mumbled and Seth found himself stroking Dean's other shoulder lightly before putting on the gloves and washing Dean's hair. Without asking, he rubbed Dean's hair dry as well and put in the care product, wanting to spare him the trouble of lifting the injured arm over his head. "I think I dyed your ear. Sorry," Seth stated. Dean checked himself in the mirror. "Oh well, I'll get if off. Can't see anything in that tiny mirror, though. You get the blow dryer, shave if you want, I find us something to wear…"

When Seth had dried his hair, and shaved off his beard, he found trousers, a shirt and a jacket hanging on the inside of the door and put them on. Dean had done a good job – apart from being unable to close the top button of his shirt, the stuff fit reasonably well. He stepped out to find Dean dressed in the same outfit – black dress pants and jacket, white shirt. He couldn't help but grin. "Fancy - completely unrecognizable, I'd say. How about me? Looking 19 again?" "More like 12, really," Dean smiled but the smile froze when he looked at Seth's hair. "That bad?" he asked and went to stand in front of the big bedroom mirror.

It really was no good. While he could see no change in the dark side of his head, the formerly light side was patchy, with blond shining through irregularly when he turned his head in the light. "Well, it's less obvious than it was before," Seth tried to comfort Dean. "I think the product was just no good." "Should we try again?" Dean asked. "Nah. I'm scared they'll fall out if we do that." He found his hair tie and sorted through the strands, trying to bring the darkest to the top of his head and then collecting the curls in a bun. When he looked back up, Dean had joined him in front of the mirror and met his eyes in the glass. He looked at the two of them, same height, same clothes, same haircolor.

Carefully, Dean slipped his good arm around Seth's shoulder, and on autopilot, Seth's arm went around Dean's waist and his hand came to rest on a hipbone that felt sharp under his fingertips.

"So, you think we pass as brothers? Dean asked Seth through the mirror. Seth stared back into the familiar blue, framed by darker strands now, saw their bodies close together and suddenly felt Dean's arm heavy on him, the scent of Dean's skin filling his mind. He met Dean's eyes again and could feel his stomach flip, his heart surge.

 _I'll never think of you as a brother,_ he thought and turned before he even knew what he was doing, closing the suddenly unbearable gap between them. His lips brushed Dean's own, soft, warm, so well-known, but suddenly, he there was the stubble of Dean's cheek and he felt Dean's hand, soft but firm on the back of his head.

Dean had turned him away, but still held on to him – one arm flung across his back, hugging him tight, but denying him anything else. Seth buried his burning face in the crook of Dean's neck and let him stroke his hair, too embarrassed to look up, fighting down the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Still, he held on to Dean and felt his lips close to his ear. Seth stilled to hear what he would say… but after a second, there was a hitch in Dean's breath, and he hugged him tighter, pressed the lightest kiss on the top of Seth's ear…but he did not say anything.

 _Better, maybe,_ Seth thought through the pain, the rejecton. _Best thing you can come up with, with all the shit that's going on, trying to get into his pants in a cheap by-the-hour hotel when you should be getting away. He woke up next to a dead woman just hours ago, for fuck's sake. You officially lost your mind._

Dean let go softly and turned towards the bags without meeting Seth's eyes. "I… might have a plan where we can go. Maybe stay for longer. It… it just would mean we would probably have to drag someone else into this." Dean sighed. "I… I trust him. But I need your opinion." Seth leaned back against a wall, not trusting his legs, but the idea of sitting on the bed made him feel sick.

"Okay. Who is it then?" he said, his voice brittle in spite of his effort. Dean told him. Seth took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Him. Well, that made sense. And it hurt. Like hell.

 _You're jealous. Actually jealous. And you always thought that didn't happen to you. Brilliant day to change your mind on that. But – this is not about you._ He tried to push away the jealousy, the rejection, and find a solution beyond this.

"Where does he live at the moment?" he asked. Dean pulled out a road map and sat down on the bed. He looked at Seth again, and there was worry, uncertainty in his gaze. "I think we could make it there by early evening, if nothing happens – his place is around here…" he pointed at the map and Seth felt himself become unstuck from the wall. _Do you worry that I won't help you because you don't want to kiss me? I hope you know me better than that. And I hope I actually_ am _better than that._

Seth sat down next to Dean and studied the map. "Early evening is a good guess, I think. You can find his place?" "Been there a couple of times lately, yeah…" _Ah._

"He lives alone?" "Yeah. And I think he said he would spend the Wrestlemania weekend alone at home. But even if he's not at home…" Dean frowned "I might have the combination to the gate memorized…" "Yeah, like the unlock code to my phone." "You never changed it from saying SHIELD." Seth smiled without meeting Dean's eyes. "Yes, I never did." He took another deep breath. It still hurt, but what did it matter? "Let's try this. I think he will help us."

Dean nodded and folded up the map. "Okay, thank you. Then we should probably clean up and get going. And there's another thing…" he went for the bags again, searching.

When Dean turned back around, Seth found himself looking into the barrel of a gun.

 **Yeah, sorry, that was somewhat cruel and unusual. I hope you didn't suffer too much emotional whiplash!**

 **I think you might be pleased to know that the next chapter will take us back exactly to where we left off.**

 **((And that concludes a whole week of me flailing and re-editing this chapter, much to the amusement of my friends, because I have never written (or posted!) smut before.))**

 **I hope you enjoyed it, thanks for reading, see you Sunday!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Warnings: Mention of traumatic brain injury (again).**

Seth was off the bed, away from the gun and up against the wall in one swift, automatic movement.

"Whoa, man, chill, it's a toy, of course!" Dean held up his hands, gun pointing at the ceiling. "Why would you think I'd point a real gun at you?" "I wasn't thinking, I was staring down a barrel, you idiot! Are you out of your mind? Why would you point any kind of gun at me?" Seth shouted, unable to calm himself. Hopefully their neighbors were out or busy.

"Didn't mean to point it at you, just wanted to show you… I saw this thing at the shady shop where I bought the burner phones… thought the gun might help…" Dean started and Seth had to use all his restraint not to go on screaming but to let Dean finish.

"I've been thinking. About the video on the parking lot. Okay, it looks bad that you came after me, but I could have threatened you, or blackmailed you. Or lied to you, asked you for something more harmless, then pulled a gun on you later. I mean, maybe this isn't necessary, but if things go really bad we could try this to get all the blame on me…" "…and probably get both of us killed at the same time." Seth finished coldly, hiding his shaking hands by crossing his arms.

"Dean, listen to me very closely now. There is no way in hell that this gun even leaves the room with us. I won't have it anywhere near us. I came with you to keep you safe. To keep you from killing yourself by crashing a car you could not drive. Now we solved that problem, the best thing you can do for me is come up with a new way to get yourself killed? Make the cops think you are a danger to their lives? Give that to me!" he grabbed at the gun by the barrel and pulled it out of Dean's unresisting hands.

Later, he would realize how tremendously stupid that had been. What could have happened if Dean had lied. If the gun had been real after all. But at the moment, anger fuelled Seth and he examined the piece of plastic in his hands. "Is it even legal to own something this convincing?" he wondered, but Dean only shrugged, eyes on his feet.

A short survey of the room gave Seth no idea where to hide it. "We could just throw it away with the rest of the dye and the other garbage," Dean suggested. "Not leaving the room with us. If we are unlucky, the police are waiting for us in the lobby because the concierge recognized us after all. I don't think so, but I'm not sure. This will not be with us if we are picked up."

Seth sighed and finally stuffed the toy unceremoniously down into the bed frame. "I know this is stupid, but I have no better idea." "Will probably give us a month or so before they find it when they clean the room again," Dean scoffed. Seth turned to him and smiled weakly. "No more stunts like that, okay? My decisions, my consequences. Nothing that puts you in danger helps me." Dean sighed and nodded without meeting Seth's eyes. Seth felt the urge to comfort him, touch him, hug him… but he left it at a faint pat on his shoulder.

"So, what's next? Pack up, throw away the trash, get the message to Roman and then find out if we can make it to our next stop by nightfall?" "I think so," Dean answered. "Take all the color with us, so if they trace us to the room, they don't know we dyed our hair… then we write the message for Roman and then we need to get to a phone…"

"You know how you want to do this?" Seth asked. "With this," Dean answered and waved the roadmap at Seth. "I'll explain in the car. But you'll have to help, I can't do this alone…" Seth nodded. "Sure." Finally, Dean met his eyes again.

They dumped the trash behind a fast-food restaurant and Dean bought a pen and a pastel pink "Good Luck" card with enough space for a personal message. "Who writes this?" Seth asked him back in the car. "Would he recognize your handwriting?" Dean asked back. They both looked at each other helplessly. "Can't remember when I wrote something to Ro by hand, really," Seth said, but took the pen anyway. "Still, I'll try. Half-way between my normal handwriting and eccentric aunt? 'Dear Roman…'" he began.

In the end, they agreed on: "Dear Roman, good luck for Wrestlemania tomorrow. Thinking of you. Call me on my new number if you want, but don't use your mobile (too expensive). Love…" "What do we call the aunt?" Dean asked. Seth considered this for a moment. "That radio newscaster… she was called Sheila, right? If I write the e and the i messily and pull the a too high, it looks a little like Shield?"

Dean stared at him but didn't answer. "Come up with something better, then!" Seth complained. "No, I just… I have no clue if we are way too obscure and Roman won't get it or way too obvious and we tip off the police. Or if it might just work. I have no idea. Use Sheila. We'll take the gamble." Seth could not help but agree and signed the card.

Dean explained his plan to Seth as they drove to a diner at the roadside and pulled into the parking lot. "You ready?" Dean asked. Seth had to stop himself from bending the card in his hands. "I think so. Hair still looking mostly one-colored?" Dean rearranged a few of his strands, then took Seth's hand and wrote Roman's number on it. Seth felt his heart beat quicken at the soft touch, but pushed it to the back of his mind. "Will do," Dean said. "Okay. Place looks crowded, let's do this as fast as possible…"

Seth hid the card in a pocket and followed Dean to the door. After a quick scan of the room, he chose a table in a corner – close to another table currently hosting two girls, chatting, but also both with their phones in their hands. They ordered coffees and waited for the waitress to leave. "Girl with her back to us is the chosen one," Dean murmured over his cup. "Unlocks her phone with 0208. You heard me?" "0208," Seth repeated even more quietly. "Okay."

Dean unfolded the road map and held it up between them. After an amount of time that he obviously considered to be appropriate to find out he did not know how to read it, he turned around to the girls. "Sorry, are you two from around here maybe?" he smiled his brightest, most dazzling smile at both of them and with one movement, draped the map over the phone that the girl had placed on the table in front of her.

He started telling a long winded but funny story about how he had promised a visit to an aunt, and how the two of them had been badly lost on the way. Seth saw how he made eye contact with each girl, drawing them in and directing their gazes from his face to the hand that pointed at the map. He did it so well that Seth thought he would have missed Dean's other hand sneaking under the map if he had not known that it would happen. Dean palmed the phone off into Seth's waiting hand under the table and Seth pulled it towards his body, praying the fast moment was not too hectic. But the girls were hanging on to Dean's lips, as he had changed to open flirting now – successfully, apparently.

Hiding card and phone with his chair and his body, Seth unlocked the phone and was glad to see the camera icon in plain sight. He positioned the card on his legs and tried to get it in focus. The first attempt turned out too dark. Could he risk activating the flash? He turned to look at the three others inconspicuously, and caught Dean's eye – under all the charm, he was getting anxious, Seth could tell.

To hell with it. Try the flash. Seth tried to shield the light as much as possible and finally got his shot. The card was all there. Now he had to find the option to send it. There. He transferred the number from his hand. Was this a one or a seven in the middle? He hoped he remembered correctly that it would have to be a seven. He pressed send – and just had time to consider what to do if the girl had not money left – when the little "Sent!" animation appeared. Quickly, he deleted everything – message and both pictures, as he heard the owner of the phone say: "No seriously, let me google this. We'll never find it on the map!" Her hand slipped under the map and, predictably, found nothing.

"I think you dropped this," Seth said as smoothly as he could and handed it back, pretending he had picked the phone up from the floor. "I hope it still works?" "Oh, damn, no, it looks okay, thanks! So, you are Cody's brother?" She asked. "You don't really look alike!"

"I'm adopted," Seth answered instantly and wished to any God listening that they would find a way to leave quickly now.

But she and Dean tried several spelling of the town they were looking for before finding it – in some completely different part of the state. "Oh boy, are we off course." Dean sighed. "C'mon, bro, back to the car, if we want to make it before midnight. Thank you, ladies!" Seth threw some money for their coffee on the table and sprinted after Dean.

Dean was already out on the parking lot when Seth reached the door. Just as he wanted to push at it, it was pulled open from the other side. Seth almost bumped into the slightly shorter man who entered the diner. He mumbled an apology absent-mindedly, but then his eyes dropped from the man's face to his clothes. His police uniform. He felt his muscles tense and his eyes go wide and tried to stop it, but knew he could not.

"No problem, Sir," he heard the policeman say and push past him. Seth kept standing in the door, stunned, until he saw Dean in the parking lot, looking as terrified as he felt.

His feet started moving again, taking him to Dean. "Let's get out of here," he whispered, but didn't slow down. Dean fell in pace with him. "Don't run," he whispered back. "Do you think he recognized you?" Seth just shook his head. "No. Still…"

They got into the car and Seth took a deep breath. Dean got behind the steering wheel and drove out of the parking lot. Seth didn't dare speaking to him, was too afraid he might bump into one of the other cars on accident. He saw the police car now, with a second cop waiting for his partner. Seth slumped deeply into his seat, but Dean steered the car out into the road without problems.

"We must have crossed some jurisdiction-line or something… well, at least we now know the hair is not too bad…" Seth muttered to himself. His heart would not slow down yet and he could see Dean checking the rear view mirror more than the road ahead. "We're not in the car they are looking for, and they were obviously just on a break," Dean said, and Seth was sure he was mostly trying to calm himself down.

But when there was still no blue light and no siren behind them five minutes later, Seth felt his pulse slow, and Dean smiled faintly, before his face darkened again.

"Seth, did it work?" he suddenly asked. "Did you get the message out?" "Middle number – seven or one?" Seth said slowly. Dean's look of wide eyed horror made Seth worry that he would brake in mid-traffic. "Seven!" "Then we're good!" Seth smiled, relief flooding his whole body so hard that he almost wanted to start laughing. "Now we actually need to switch on that phone!"

"No hurry there," Dean said. "If it rings now already, it's either the police or Roman used his own phone." "Or Galina's," Seth hazarded. "Don't think so. Use his own before getting her in trouble." "Probably," Seth agreed. "I wonder what he will do. Find some phone at the stadium or the hotel? Maybe ask Daniel… but I almost assume the same would apply. But of course it's much harder to get to the phone of someone you don't like that much…"

Seth powered up the burner phone. They waited, with bated breath, but no message came through. "Good," Seth said, after a while. "I'll have an eye on this." Dean nodded and focused all of his attention on the road again.

"Close now, Roman and Daniel, right?" Dean asked into the silence. "Yeah. Make an odd couple, of sorts, but I guess with the children it's only natural. Same topics, same problems…" Seth shrugged. "I mean, the three little ones are cute as hell and I don't mind playing babysitter for an hour or two, but I'm really not into conversations on nappies and stuff… Anyway, I'm glad Daniel is up against Roman for Wrestlemania. Don't ever tell him, but I'm afraid he's going to have a seizure in-ring every time he wrestles. And with the plot going more and more insane every month… no, I trust Roman, he would never put Daniel in danger. We have other folks on the roster…" he put his hand on his neck, considering all the suplexes he would not have to take now.

"Thinking of your match against Brock, are you?" Dean's guess was spot-on. Seth nodded. "What exactly was the game plan for tomorrow? You would have retained, right?" "Yeah… plan was…" he sighed. "Well, basically the plan was to have him toss me around like a doll until the audience actually believes he killed me. Practiced to no end to have my head in the most unnatural looking positions. Well, then, miracle recovery, and I get to put him away with a Phoenix Splash. Would have. Anyway. Still, this was not likely to get top-ratings anywhere." He paused. "And, hey, maybe you actually literally saved my neck here. Who knows. Might always have gone wrong."

Dean said nothing for a while, just stared at the road ahead. "Hate to think being with me right now is actually the less dangerous option for you." "As I said," Seth leaned back, "Didn't get any better since you left."

"Vince?" Dean asked. Seth laughed darkly. "Mr. McMahon," he said in his interview-voice "Is enjoying a well-deserved rest from his duties as the chairman of this company, but is still helping out as a mentor and advisor."

"And the real deal?" Dean asked back. Seth looked at his hands. "You think they would tell me?" "I thought Hunter might." Seth looked up at Dean, mystified, but the other man remained focused on the road. "No. No way. Still, I can add up the bits and pieces to a pretty ugly complete picture. We all can. There is something seriously wrong with Vince, and at least some doctors say it might have something to do with all the head injuries he got over the years. So, this is bad and can't get to the press. But apparently, he's not in a bad shape as such, or at least not all the time. From what I gather, it's very much a day to day thing. Some days, everything okay. Other days…" he shrugged.

"The company still belongs to him, though, right?" "Yeah, and that's where it gets really nasty. He seems to be pretty unpredictable, but on paper, he still holds all the power. To get it from him, you would have to get judges involved. I know some people in the family want to try that, others don't. It's… a strain on everyone. Anyone involved wants "what's best for him". Some think the best thing would be to take WWE from him, so they can save his legacy, because that's what he would want if he could still make reasonable decisions. Others say it would kill him to have the company taken away. Either way, right now it seems to be a big, messy stand-off. Nothing big can be done to save the ratings, everything goes downhill and the best thing we can do is try to make up for it with drama. So Roman hits Brie and I do my best to die in-ring at Wrestlemania. It's so fucked up. But… well… I think I would have tried to ride it out with them. Do my bit to keep things going. Well, after Hunter's call… I don't feel I have any obligations there anymore."

Seth tried to read Dean's face, but he was still staring at the road, in thought, no emotions visible. So Seth was even more stunned when the next words out of Dean's mouth were: "Are you sleeping with Hunter?" Seth opened his mouth and closed it again. "Erm, no?" he managed on the second attempt.

"I just… I saw you signed that guestbook as Shawn Helmsley. Wondered if it means anything." Dean said and Seth groaned. "I have no idea where that came from. But, no. I don't. Never did, if you want to know." Seth looked at Dean again, but he still did not turn around to look at him, still, he believed he saw a flicker in his eyes. _You never asked me anything like that before,_ he thought. _But then this is not like any other situation we've ever been in._

"Okay, full disclosure: Only thing that ever happened was that he almost kissed me at some party." Seth went on, eyes on the road. "We were chatting in some corner; suddenly he calls me Shawn and leans in. I just got up and walked out of the room. That was years ago, when his marriage was on a lot more solid ground than it is now. Nah, man, I'm really not looking for that kind of trouble."

Dean's laugh was quiet at first, but then got louder and louder. "What?!" Seth asked. "Sorry, don't you think that's kind of funny in these circumstances?" Dean said, trying to keep his face straight, failing. Seth felt the laughter rise inside him, too. Never easy not to join in with Dean. "Ah, you mean because of all this?" Seth gesticulated at the two of them, the phone, the car, and raised his eyebrows. "Nah. Being on the run from the police with you seems a piece of cake compared to the wrath of Steph McMahon or being involved in their family matters. Happy where I am, thank you."

Seth leaned back into his seat. _Maybe, if this is honesty hour…_ "Dean?" he asked. "Hm?" came back from the driver's seat. "When did you start watching WWE again?" There was silence before Dean said: "Can't remember. Few months after… you know. One day I just… went back and binged on all the stuff I missed, for days…" he sighed deeply.

"You know, it's hard. Both ways."

"Both ways?" Seth asked. "Watching was hard, when I know I could never be there again. And not watching was hard… because not watching you do your thing is hard. Always was." Seth felt the color rise in his cheeks. "Thanks. I hope… it was worth it, at least sometimes."

Finally, Dean looked at him for a second, a fond smile on his face. "If you don't think too hard, it…it's a little like back then, isn't it? Car-sharing on our way to the next house-show?" Seth smiled back, and felt a bittersweet tug on his heartstrings. "Yeah," he agreed.

"So, what would be our story right now?" "Shield?" Dean asked. "Nah," Seth hated to oppose this. "Roman would be here with us." "True," Dean agreed but rallied quickly. "One of us feuding with him?" "Not me," Seth blurted out. "Don't want _that_ jinx on my head again. Prefer both of us healthy." "Nah, don't really want to fight Roman, either…" Dean contemplated. "He's always been fussing over us even more when we were on opposite sides then when we were together." Seth grinned. True. Of course they always teased him when he checked up on them even after a match where everything had gone perfectly. Of course they had both secretly liked it. It didn't need words.

"So, what else?" Seth asked. "Never held the tag-team title…" Dean suggested. "Good one," Seth agreed. "So, we're tagging. Heels or faces?" "Don't care." "Faces, then," Seth decided. "I kind of got used to not being booed and insulted, I have to admit." "Softie," Dean grinned.

"Do we already have the titles? Or are we No. 1 contenders?" "No belts here," Seth commented, "So I guess No. 1 contenders. Now we just need some evil opponents to take the title from. Wishes?" _Play this game with me just a little longer. Get your mind off the trouble we're in._

Dean thought about this long and hard. "Kevin. Kevin Owens. Miss brawling with him. So, I chose one, the other is up to you." "Okay…" Seth leafed mentally through the options. "If you get a brawler, I'll have someone for the show – I choose Finn." "Kevin and Finn – worthy opponents." Dean grinned at the mental image. "What would they call themselves?" "K.O. Demons? Daemonic Knockout? The Possessed Prizefighters? The Prizefrighters!" Seth suggested and both burst out laughing. "Sounds like something out of a 1920ies freak show." Dean commented. "Do they have anything else in common?" Seth considered this. "They are on Twitter all the time?" "Social Media Outcasts!" Dean suggested and they laughed out loud again.

 _Strange,_ Seth thought to himself. _How quickly things can bounce back to what they once were. Or can they?_ "Okay, so the Possessed Social Media Prizefrighters, whatever, have the titles, we should have beaten them at least one PPV ago, but they retain by unfair means. Hey, maybe Finn hypnotized you?" Dean went on planning.

"Pfft, as if Finn could just hypnotize me like that! Kane dragged me to hell and it had no lasting negative effects on my psyche!" Seth complained, laughing. "Sorry babe," Dean shot back with a smile, "But your whole fucking heel run was one lasting negative effect on your psyche!" Still laughing, Seth punched Dean's arm just so hard they would not veer off the road.

 **Okay, mea culpa about that cliffhanger last time, I still feel pretty guilty about that. I hope everyone's heart rate is back to normal now!**

 **I think everybody (and that includes Dean and Seth as well as you and me…) could do with the little respite we get here ;)**

 **So, until we are back with Roman on Wednesday (and find out if he gets the message), anybody want to guess where Team Ambrollins is going? I'd really like to know what you think!**


	12. Chapter 12

When Roman and Daniel returned to their families, Brie's expression gave her away immediately. She was biting her lower lip, like a young girl, and there was just a split-second of fear in her face as Daniel and Roman approached them.

"What's wrong?" Daniel asked right away. Brie tried a broad smile, but faltered halfway through the motion. "Not sure. I don't want to worry you if it's not necessary…" "Love, can you think of a sentence that would get someone more worried?" Daniel asked. Galina got up and took Roman's hands. "Brie found out that they spotted Seth's car. Police tried to stop it, they apparently made a run for it. That's what we know. I think we would know if they had caught them." Both Roman and Daniel whipped around to look at a small gathering of police close to the door.

"Weird thing," Brie added, "They think there is only one man in the car. Don't know what to make of that." Daniel saw Roman release Galina's hands and flex his fingers nervously.

"Don't they know what danger they are in?" he whispered "What will the police do to stop them? Him? What is this, Seth trying a distraction, or did Dean ditch him, even though he can barely drive the car?"

Daniel caught himself before seriously considering that one of them had stuffed the other in the trunk of the car. Still, the police might still think about it. "Can't do anything right now, Ro. But the police are going to play this very much by the book, I'm sure. No matter how things stand, their celebrity status helps them. They won't harm them. They won't," Daniel said soothingly. _Unless absolutely necessary_ , the nasty little voice in his head added.

Just then, a road agent approached them. "Roman, Daniel. We got a game plan for tomorrow. We need you to come and fix the details." Both men looked at the road agent as if he had grown a second head. "Now?" Roman asked. The road agent lost the last bit of patience he still had. "Do you have anything more pressing to do? I very much doubt it. Now can you please come and do your fucking jobs?" Daniel and Galina gripped Roman's arms at the same time.

It occurred to Daniel briefly how well practiced that movement was, and how little truth there actually was in it. He could not think of anyone less likely to throw a punch in anger than Roman. Not even for his brothers. Not even today. But people tended to play along with the fiction of the dangerous juggernaut. He certainly did. _But if I don't, he'll probably just realize even more how helpless we actually are right now. How little we can do._

"We are coming," Daniel told the road agent whose wide eyes gave away that he had realized his mistake. He turned around quickly and went back to where Brock Lesnar and Paul Heyman were waiting. "Don't say it," Roman grumbled. "Show must go on. I know. Let's see what they have come up with."

Brock Lesnar looked about ready to kill them for the delay, Paul Heyman next to him unnaturally small. The road agents, three of them by now, stressed and sweaty.  
"Okay," the one who had fetched them started, uncertainty clear as day in his voice. "This is what we have. As we understand Daniel can't take a suplex…" he looked at him as though he hoped Daniel would disagree at the last second. Take one for the team. As if that might not prove lethal.

"You sure as hell understand that correctly," Roman spat. "Do you have any idea how often we had to run the original plan past his doctors? Suplex means high risk he lands on his neck or the back of his head. No way in hell anyone would sign off on that, and don't you dare make it sound like that's something Daniel decided just because he doesn't want to do it!"

The road agent looked up thunderstruck at Roman. Seconds passed like years. "Erm, yes." Daniel interrupted the stand-off. "But you made it sound like there was a plan that did not include probably crippling me?" he pushed Roman softly backwards.

"Yes… yes there is." A second, female road agent rallied and took over, sending her colleague to the sidelines, her voice all business. "The new plan is, mostly, the old plan. As it is a Triple Treat now, we have the following stipulations to work with: No disqualification, no count-out, first pinfall or submission gets the title, pinfall or submission has to happen inside the ring." All competitors nodded. "Outcome was scheduled to be Daniel over Roman by pinfall, and that will also remain in place. Now what to do with Brock here is the big question." Brock gave a huge, impassive shrug.

"We discussed this with the two of them already, you'll soon understand why. Our current idea, and Hunter, Brock and Paul signed up on this, is that in the beginning, Daniel gets taken out pretty soon, probably rolling out of the ring. Brock and Roman do battle for around 5-7 minutes, we need to improvise that. But, Roman, you'll have to take some suplexes, I hope that's clear." Roman nodded. " _I_ 'll live," he said pointedly. The female road agent smiled briefly. "Good. After those 5-7 minutes, you both end up outside of the ring, maybe Brock gets ready to finish you off with a chair or something – it's no DQ, after all – we play out our big surprise. Paul turns on Brock, hits him with a chair, Brock goes down… Roman, congratulation, you're the new Heyman guy." Roman blinked several times, lost for words.

"It makes sense," Brock finally said. "I'm hardly around. Fans love Paul. He needs to get behind someone who's on TV all the time. And since that two-toned trai… your darling "little brother" ran, all post-Wrestlemania plans are off anyway." Daniel heard the collective intake of breath, but Roman just whispered: "Saved yourself just in time, there."

"Back to business," the female booker said sharply. "So far, everyone on board?" Everybody nodded. Daniel wondered if she had worked with troubled teenagers before joining WWE. "Good. Roman, you are the only man standing at the moment, but before you can drag Brock into the ring to get a pinfall, there's Daniel, recovered, you meet back in the ring and do about 80%, 85% of the routine you practiced – up to the moment where Daniel has Roman in a submission hold… instead of Roman getting to the ropes, we now have Brock re-entering the fray – knocking Paul out on the way. Roman is still dizzy for a moment from "lack of air", Brock picks Daniel up and teases an F5. Teases! Don't look like that Roman. Daniel fights out of it, Roman superman-punches Brock, Brock rolls out of the ring again; Daniel and Roman finish the last 15-20% of their old routine. Curtain."

Daniel nodded slowly. "It's not terrible, but it looks pretty bad for Brock, being out cold most of the time…" Brock looked at Daniel darkly. "Negotiated with Hunter that I'll get the same paycheck as before, when I actually would have to do some work. Thanks for your concern, Dan, but I don't care. Believe it or not, I can take one for the team, unlike…" "Not helping, Brock," Paul said before Brock could finish, but his voice sounded weak.

Daniel had expected another explosion from Roman, but his head was turned in the other direction. There was something going on among the police. "Good, so the overall plan is a go?" The female road agent asked. Everyone except Roman nodded. Daniel kicked him softly. "Plan is okay," Roman said without turning his head. "Three things you need to work on until tomorrow – start of the match, Roman and Brock's six minute sequence, and the short intermission towards the end. Everything that concerns Daniel needs to be seen and signed off by the medical staff. But since I think most other activities are off, I think that is plenty of time."

Again, everybody except Roman nodded. The road agent looked at them all and realized she had lost them to the hubbub at the door. "Class dismissed," she said sarcastically and assembled the other road agents around her.

Roman's body had started moving before his mind had decided where he should be, so he stopped dead in the middle of the hall. There was the throng of policemen – but there was also Brie, with the young policeman off to one side. There was an envelope in his hand and judging from Brie's face, she was just trying to develop x-ray vision to see what's inside. A shove to his chest ended his deliberation. It was Detective Moore, hurrying to get past him.

"What the…?!" they heard him yell at the group. The young policeman had joined the others, so Brie walked over to Roman. "Good news is, no-one else is dead, as far as we know," she said. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Roman asked, wide eyed. Brie pulled him further down into the hall and Daniel joined them. "What I gather is: They arrested someone. The person drove Seth's car into a ditch, fled on foot. They got him. But the kicker is, it does not seem to be either Dean or Seth."

"What?" Both Roman and Daniel said synchronously. "Yes, that's what all the fuss is about. They thought they were close, but they are not, apparently. "Do you know if the guy said anything?" Daniel asked. Brie frowned. "Ah, that was the information I wanted to give you last… From what I heard they tasered the guy. Badly. And now he either can't speak yet or is in no mood to talk. They had to get him to a hospital." Roman's eyes went even wider and Daniel was grateful that Brie had held that information back so that Roman would not think one of his brothers had been on the receiving end of that taser.

"Do you think it's possible the guy did something to Dean and Seth?" Roman whispered. "Ro, they are two strong guys, smart, too," Daniel tried so comfort Roman. "Much more likely they dumped the car because it was too recognizable. Maybe they found a place where they can hide. Don't jump to the worst conclusion. Brie, what's that envelope?" "Autopsy report," Brie muttered. "Came right in the middle of the worst chaos, and he still had no chance to hand it over. I'll get back to him, maybe I can pick something up when he finally gets the chance…" But before Brie could do that, they heard the detective shout "I want Reigns! Helmsley! Bryan!" at another policeman.

Roman and Daniel looked at each other and then followed the shout. Detective Moore was red-faced in the middle of the crowd, but had his back to them. Apparently he had not even realized that they were this close. "… as you had suspected", Daniel heard another policeman say. "Report says she probably received the injury that killed her some time before the call to her friend. Rupture of some sort in the head/neck area. Bled slowly, internally. Must have had one hell of a headache. They found an almost empty bottle of strong painkillers inside her purse – the kind that thins the blood. Probably the last straw. Hardly food in her system – last meal was probably sushi, even before the time the injury occurred. Alcohol in her system, but not much." Daniel saw the Detective nod. "So, we would need to prove that the runway bastard has been with her before Friday afternoon."

Daniel felt the sudden urge to cough loudly. The detective turned around and narrowed his eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?" "You… called for us?" Daniel tried, as innocently as possible, with Roman fuming next to him. "Not now!" The detective dismissed them. "Go… to your families, I'll come to you."

"Did you catch that?" Roman mumbled through gritted teeth as they walked back. "What exactly?" Daniel asked back. "He wants to prove Dean guilty. He basically just said that!" Roman buried his face in his hands and Daniel frowned. "He said that they would need to prove that Dean was with her earlier, and, well, that's just a fact. Okay, the bastard was unnecessary, but I think they were pretty sure they had him, everybody can go home… though I know…" he sighed. "It didn't sound too good."

"What about the autopsy report?" Brie whispered. "As far as I got it, her customer injured her and she bled out, internally, over some time," Daniel replied. "Also took some meds that made it worse. Poor woman. But nothing to do with Dean, I think we can be sure." "If we could only find him an alibi for Thursday and Fr…" Roman started, but the women shushed him. They could see the police approaching and Hunter with them.

Detective Moore had some papers with him, but did not show them yet. He eyed Roman with a mixture of anger and apprehension. "First of all," he started out grudgingly, "I'm sorry about what I called your friend just now. You should not have been there to hear it, but I was angry and out of line. Nevertheless, I assure you that he will be treated fairly and we are not considering him to be the only suspect, not by a long shot." Daniel saw Roman's face and knew he did not believe a single word. Too little. Too late.

"As we now have some more facts, there are two things I want from you. First, what can you tell me about this man?" He turned the paper around and showed them the face of a man Daniel had never seen before. He looked harassed, maybe in pain, and Daniel suspected him to be in a hospital bed. The driver of Seth's car. Daniel's "Nothing" came in a chorus with similar expressions from everyone else. "No friend of Mr. Rollins? Mr. Ambrose?" "Not one he introduced to me," Hunter stated. Daniel wondered why he wanted to show them the picture all at once, but found no easy answer. Hoping they would not manage to agree, if they hid something? But the Detective had already put the picture away.

"Fine, we'll get to the bottom of this. The second thing is, as we now have a timeframe of the lethal injury, we need to check the alibis of every male wrestler who stayed at your hotel."

Roman went first, going over his schedule from his arrival around noon on Thursday until they went to the Hall of Fame show on Friday night. Jennifer, Roman's personal assistant, came over to corroborate any timeframe Roman had spent apart from his family. "Never alone" had been a well chosen title for the documentary on Roman, Daniel mused – there were hardly ten-minute timeframes unaccounted for. But it turned out that things were very similar for Daniel – if he was not with Brie and the kids or Roman, he had been at some charity event. Obviously the detective did not find it necessary to interview Brie and Galina separately.

The Detective made a motion to turn to Hunter, but Roman stopped him. "If you really are trying to check Dean's alibi as well… did you find anything? Any time you could account for?" The Detective gave him a hard glance, but then softened. "So far, unfortunately only your wife's idea checked out. We can place him at a bar on Thursday night, but only for a few hours. It ended in a loud argument with the barkeeper, so we doubt that he would be back."

"Argument?" Roman asked. The detective seemed to consider if he wanted to answer or not, but in the end decided to give Roman what he was looking for. "The barkeeper felt that Mr. Ambrose had had enough to drink. He said he had finished off almost a whole bottle of bourbon and asked for more." Jennifer the PA drew her breath in sharply. "He could pay for it, but the barkeeper said he had limits." The detective continued. "Mr. Ambrose didn't like that. Apparently there was screaming, and a scuffle, and Mr. Ambrose left."

"Oh Dean," Daniel heard Brie whisper. _It closes a gap, unfortunately_ , Daniel thought. How could a guy that seems usually so nice, like Dean, hurt someone so badly they died? Alcohol might be an answer. Loss of control. "What about the staff at Dean's hotel?" Roman asked. "Not the perceptive kind, I'm afraid. Concierge only saw Mr. Ambrose alone, but that means he also completely missed our victim entering with Mr. Ambrose on Friday night, which she undoubtedly did. Room service did not clean his room as he had the DND on the door all day. Camera data not stored. People in neighboring rooms out all day and returned only to fall asleep, did not hear a thing. You see, it's not like we are not trying. If – by any chance – you have another idea where he might have been, speak up please." But of course they had no new idea, and so the detective turned to Hunter. Daniel noticed a soft sheen of sweat on his brow.

Hunter could account for most of his time during the day, but then the detective asked: "And I assume you and your wife have a family room with your children, like Mr. Reigns and Mr. Bryan." "Yes… and no," Hunter uttered vaguely. The adults all looked up in confusion, and then pretended they had not. "There is a family room, and I was there, a lot, with my wife and kids… but I have another room. And I slept there, alone, the night from Thursday to Friday." Daniel met Roman's eyes and thought he read a mute question. _Did you know that? 'No.'_ he tried to answer. Then he looked back at Brie, and saw that she, again, had been less surprised.

"Oh, and extra room! Did you also spend time in this room on Friday?" Detective Moore asked. He obviously had no urge to ask for the reason for this separate room in front of everyone else. "Yes," Hunter admitted. "It gets very stressful, and with the four women around…" Detective Moore nodded. "Would you mind, just to exclude you, if we swipe the room for the DNA of the murder victim?" "How would you do that?" Hunter asked, confused.

"Pretty new technology," Detective Moore explained. "We would probably just scan the bed for DNA, compare all the traces we find to the victim." "All the traces you find?" Hunter looked confused. "If just you slept in the bed, just yours, of course." Hunter blinked. "You can't do that without a warrant, right?" "Correct," the detective agreed. "I'm asking for cooperation here." "It's a very personal thing you ask of me," Hunter said, blushing. Daniel wished he could disappear into the floor.

Salvation came in the form of Brock Lesnar and Paul Heyman, who had joined them during the last part of the conversation now Paul Heyman spoke up: "Detective, do you still need Mr. Bryan and Mr. Reigns? Because if not, we would like them to re-join the practice session!"

The detective seemed just as glad for an excuse to let Hunter off the hook for a while. "Mr. Bryan and Reigns are free to go, however, I understand that both of you also have rooms at the same hotel as everyone else here?" Both men nodded. "Then I'll have to ask you sooner or later about your movements between your arrival and Friday evening. If I can cross you off the list now, I won't have to disturb you later." Both men agreed reluctantly. Neither man had his family with him to vouch for him, but most chunks of time, they could account for each other. "We've been working together for some time, but hardly had time to really catch up. We spent most of the time hanging out in my room, it's a little nicer," Paul Heyman explained. The detective noted all this down and let them leave.

While Roman and Brock worked on a routine, Daniel spent most time at the ringside with the team doctors, arguing about possible spots he might do with Brock. It was a discussion they had had before, and he could see that he was testing the doctors who had only very, very reluctantly signed off on occasional in-ring work, easy guest appearances, in the first place. Now he was almost back to a light normal schedule and he could tell that some of the doctors regretted supporting the steps that had led to this. "I know what I'm doing and I feel better than ever," Daniel told them, but he saw that only their professionalism kept them from rolling their eyes.

"Fucking watch it!" he suddenly heard Brock yell. Roman was doubled over, hands on his solar plexus. "What was that?! Wake the fuck up, will you?" Roman could only gasp in response. A doctor checked on him, but Daniel knew from experience that this kind of hit hurt like hell, but that the pain would subside on its own without any lasting damage.

Instead, he wondered what had gotten Roman distracted this time and he saw how Detective Moore was about to leave the building. And then there were Brie's and Galina's faces. They had not even noticed that Roman had gone down, but stared at something in their hands, each other, their hands again. Only now Galina looked up, pocketed what she had held and came over.

"What happened?" she asked Daniel. "Fucking Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins is what happened!" Brock Lesnar roared from ringside. "And your husband, who can't put them out of his mind and get his moves straight!" "Don't… you…. yell at my wife," Roman gasped. "Fuck this, I'm out." Brock slid out of the ring with one unexpectedly graceful movement. "You two. Tomorrow morning. Get the moves straight, and your heads."

Galina and Daniel helped Roman back to the benches. "Got your breath back, love?" Galina asked. "Because I need to show you something." She took out Roman's phone and showed him a picture, sender unknown, with trembling fingers. Both men looked at it without comprehension, before Roman whispered: "That's them."

"Is it?" Daniel asked, still confused at the pink, the design, the weird message. But then he saw it. The way Seth would write a capital S. The attempt to disguise the phone number they wanted Roman to use. And, oh God, the name. "They tried to sign as close to Shield as possible," Roman whispered, and Daniel could see his eyes go bright. Daniel scanned the hall quickly, but there was apparently no attention on them. With the departure of Detective Moore, the other policemen had visibly relaxed and hardly any other wrestlers remained at the hall.

"So, I take it you want to call them?" Daniel asked and Roman looked back at him in complete incomprehension. "He's right, it is a big risk, for you and for them. We need to think about this," Galina cut in. Roman nodded. "I guess I won't be able to talk them into coming back. They've been gone for too long," he whispered urgently. "But maybe Dean can tell me where he was Thursday and Friday and we sell it to the police like it just came to us, risky, but, maybe… and maybe Dean thinks he might have something to do with her death when he did not. That alone means I have to call."

"Okay," Daniel agreed. "If he really managed to worry himself into that idea, we even might have a chance of them turning themselves in. If not, we should still tell them about the bite mark. Make sure Dean takes a photo of his neck and shoulders to show there's nothing there. That's no proof he is innocent, but still… if this goes on for a while, it might be important." "And I need to tell Seth that Hunter did not mean what he said in that voicemail," Roman added. Daniel nodded, but wondered if that amount of damage could be undone that easily.

"Good, so we know what you want to tell them, now we need a phone." "I'm not using one of ours," Roman stated. "Too risky. They basically saw us together all the time today." "True," Daniel said. "And I think they took a huge risk with that card. I'm sure they monitor your phone at least, maybe all of our phones. If we get away with this, then probably just because there was so much chaos here around the time that message arrived." "And maybe because his phone is drowning in messages," Galina added. "Half good-luck wishes, half enquiries about Seth and Dean. Word spread by now." "So, where do we get a phone?" Roman asked.

"Steph McMahon," Brie and Daniel said at the same time and grinned at each other. "What? Why? And when did you discuss that?" Roman asked. "Didn't discuss it," Daniel replied. "But I thought we might need a phone sooner or later. And I think Brie spotted the same thing I did: One person here runs around with a phone in each hand, and maybe she won't miss one if we borrow it." "And she's well protected," Roman considered. "Probably won't get in trouble even if it is traced back to her. Just, how do we get it?" "Good thing is that she's here at the moment," Galina said. "Went to the offices, did not come back out. But since pretty much no-one else is here, I think she'll go back to the others at the arena in no time… she's been in and out for hours."

"I… have an idea," Brie said quietly. "It's not exactly brilliant, but maybe, just maybe… let's try to go for her private phone, that's the one she's probably using less today. The one in the pink case. Galina, you watch the kids. Ro, Daniel, you visit the medical staff, make something up, I'll go and distract Steph… try to listen. When you hear me say… hm… 'I'm so scared', come to me." "'I'm so scared?'" Daniel asked, but Brie just shook her head and left. The remaining three adults looked at each other uneasily. "Well, I guess my ribs hurt a lot, better check nothing is broken…" Roman murmured and leaned a little on Daniel as they made their way to the medics.

While Roman got prodded and poked and tried to produce enough response to extend the examination while not so much as to make anyone think he could not compete tomorrow, Daniel strained his ears. He could easily hear two female voices talk in the next room, but he could hardly make out a sentence or a word. Just when he thought that he would have to go into the corridor, the voices got louder, more intense. He could hear a sob – his wife's, no doubt.

Roman looked at him worriedly. Just then, he could hear it. "I'm so scared, I'm so fucking scared for him, Steph!" Daniel was out of the door in a shot, and Roman interrupted the doctor in mid-consultation to follow him.

They found the women hugging tightly at the end of the room, Brie sobbing loudly now, hands clawing into Steph's shoulders. But when she raised her head to look at them, there was urgency in her gaze despite the tears. Daniel was with her before he could get the message, but Roman realized what she was actually looking at – a small pink phone case on a cluttered side table next to the door. Before Daniel could split up the embrace that – as Roman realized now – was basically a holding grip to keep Stephanie from turning her head, he grabbed the phone and stuffed it down his ring gear

"Anything I can do?" Roman asked. Brie took his cue and shook her head violently. "Family matter," she said, rubbing at her eyes. "'Kay, I'll just go…" Roman said and almost sprinted out before Steph missed her phone, or Hunter turned up, or…

In the corridor, he almost collided with the doctor who had just examined him. "Oh, sorry," Roman muttered. "Breathing much easier already. Must have been some spasm. Think I'm good now." He clapped a hand on the doctor's shoulder and tried to get out as fast as possible. He could hear the doctor mutter: "Wrestlers, worst patients ever." behind him. He could not blame him.

He filled Galina in on what Brie had done and hid the phone in her purse for the time being. "You think I should call them right now?" he whispered to his wife. But Galina shook her head. "If Steph leaves for the arena without the phone, we have enough time. Now she might still go looking for it."

It felt like an eon, but finally, Steph emerged from the corridor, walking out as fast as her high heels would allow. Daniel and Brie came out shortly after, Brie huddled in Daniel's arm, still wiping away the last traces of tears.

"That was pretty impressive," Roman told her as she sat down. "Thank you." Brie smiled and stroked the heads of her children, all smiles again, at least superficially. "I thought it's best if I keep her in there as long as possible – she wanted to leave when I came in and by now she was really in a hurry – no thought about the other phone."

"What – what were you going on about?" Roman asked softly. Daniel answered for his wife. "Worried about me being in a match with Brock. She cited pretty much every injury he ever caused another wrestler. At one point I was pretty scared she would convince her to take me out of the match completely," he grinned, but Roman noticed that Brie's smile did not reach her eyes.

"Anyway, you got the phone, right?" Brie asked. Roman let her see a part of the pink case in Galina's handbag. "Where to go to make the call?" Roman wondered. "We should probably go back to the hotel soon…" "Not yet," Daniel replied. "Need to put the phone back where you took it, otherwise we'll arouse suspicion. Got it! Showers." He nodded towards that general direction. "Hardly anyone uses them, and police won't come in. I can try and look out, anyway." "And what are you going to do if someone comes?" Roman asked. "Think quickly, I guess. Worst case I fake a seizure." Daniel grinned. "Not funny," Brie whispered.

Roman picked up Steph's phone and flicked the case open. The screen showed a brightly illuminated 4x4 point lockscreen. "Damn," Roman cursed. "Didn't think of that." Neither had any of the others, apparently.

"Did anyone ever see her unlock that thing?" Daniel asked and Brie shrugged. "She does that very quickly. But I don't remember a specific movement." "Let's put it back," Roman suggested, tossing the phone down towards the bag. "Think of something else."

"Wait!" Galina had picked the phone up carefully, gradually shifting it. She tried to catch the light in just the right angle, Daniel realized. "Stressful day for all of us," she whispered. "Sweaty fingers… Brie, that's a stylized S, right?" "Try!" Brie whispered and all four watched as Galina connected the dots carefully with her finger. The phone sprang to life instantly. "Genius!" Roman hugged his wife.

Then he jumped to his feet quickly, hid Steph's and his own phone and turned to follow Daniel, who had already taken a few steps towards the showers. In mid-movement, he turned back to the women. "Really, both of you helped so much here. That was some serious acting you did there, Brie," he said. "Not much acting," Brie said, voice dark and just above a whisper. "Just taking the lid off for a second. Go, quickly. Now." Daniel wanted to stop, talk to his wife, but she shooed them away with her hands and did not meet his eyes. She only allowed Galina to sneak an arm around her waist. Roman gave Daniel a questioning look, but then they wordlessly decided to do what they had planned and deal with this later.

"So," Daniel whispered under his breath, "Tell them about the customer, find out if Dean has an alibi, maybe you can make them return…" "And I need to tell them about Hunter and the bite mark," Roman added. He breathed out sharply. "A lot. I hope I'll get the time." They inspected the showers and they were empty as expected. While Daniel turned on the water in the other stalls, Roman sat down in the shower furthest from the door and opened the greeting card on his own phone. Daniel poked his head into his stall again and gave him a thumbs-up. "Will be at the door, making some kind of noise if things go wrong." Roman nodded.

With trembling fingers, it took him three attempts to unlock Steph's phone again and dial the number.

 **Some minor notes: Of course Hall of Fame is traditionally on Saturday, not Friday, but I think that's a detail that can plausibly change in four years...  
And maybe we'll really have some little DNA-scan gadget? ****Who knows...**

 **Thanks for reading, see you on Sunday!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Warnings: Mentions of suicidal ideation, violence, alcohol abuse**

The unfamiliar sound of the pre-paid phone startled Seth and Dean lost his thread in mid-sentence. "It's not a number I know," Seth reported. "That's either really good or really bad," Dean murmured, looking for a place to stop the car. "But we didn't go through all the trouble of getting a message to Roman if we don't answer now, right?" Seth asked, but his thumb still hovered over the "accept" button.

"No," Dean pulled the car up next to a roadside nightclub that had not yet opened its doors. "Let's tell him as little as possible, for his own good. Just make sure he does not worry too much." Seth nodded and finally pressed the button, activated the speaker and put the phone down on the dashboard. But neither man said anything, they just waited with bated breath.

"Hello?" a voice at the other end of the line asked. There was a weird hissing noise in the background. Seth looked at Dean, hesitant what to do, but Dean's expression mirrored his own.

"Hello?" Dean asked back. It seemed to be enough to convince Roman. "Dean, thank God. I'm alone – no police, borrowed phone, I can talk. Is Seth there? Are you alright?"

"I'm here," Seth said and found his voice cracking at the simple words. "We're both fine." "Fuck, it's so good to hear you," Roman said and there was a strange pitch to his voice, too. "Man, it's only been hours," Seth tried jokingly, but immediately knew it had been stupid.

"Dean, what are you playing at?" Roman rasped on the other side of the phone. "What the fuck were you thinking?" "Couldn't face the police. Just couldn't. Needed to get away. I didn't hurt her, though. I swear!" Dean said. "Didn't mean too… never meant to get Seth involved like this, though." Seth just commented this with a loud sigh. "I know you did not hurt anyone!" Roman almost yelled. "Seth, and you were just on board with that insane idea?"

"It's not quite that easy, Ro," Seth said. "Well, help me out here!" Roman's voice almost rose to a scream and Seth closed his eyes. He understood Roman's desperation, but the truth might make it worse. When he opened them again, he saw Dean nod mutely. He took another breath.

"Dean thinks he might not make it if he is taken into custody again," he told Roman softly. Roman's "What?" came almost before Seth had finished. Seth glanced at Dean, but the other man looked down, his fingers playing with the fabric of his trousers, asking Seth to take the lead without saying the words. "He is scared that he might… hurt himself," Seth tried again.

"It's not that I want to," Dean finally said and Seth wondered if it had been loud enough for Roman to hear over the strange hissing noise. "But… the woman is dead. I… could never be certain if I ever get out again. I can't cope with that, Ro. I'm sorry. I can't." They could hear Roman breathe hard through the noise and when he spoke again, there was a new harshness in his voice. "Did either one of you even consider that it probably would not have happened? They probably would have let you go after questioning, or we could have posted bail. You only look guilty now you ran!"

Seth could see tears in Dean's eyes and something in him snapped. "Yes Roman, I thought about that, but I thought of it too late. There wasn't much time, it was not like we could sit down and have a big discussion on this. And by now you know he would be locked up. Flight risk and all. Besides, all these "would haves" are lovely, but I couldn't risk it anyway. Couldn't risk taking him to the police and never see him again. And don't tell me you could have done that. We all know that's bullshit." Roman did not argue. For a few heartbeats, there was only the static. "And what is that stupid noise, anyway?" Seth asked testily. _Wow, that's important right now,_ he immediately chastised himself.

"Shower, to cover the noise," Roman answered. "We're still at the training center. Daniel came up with the idea; he's also guarding the door." Dean and Seth exchanged a glance. "Daniel knows?" Dean asked. Roman made an exasperated sound. "Daniel and our wives. Daniel was actually with me when I texted you. And they all helped. Hell, I would not even have that phone without all of their help." "This is Daniel's phone?" Seth asked. "No. Stephanie's. Let's not get into that. We have little enough time as it is. This place is still swarming with police."

"Right. Sure. Ro, is there anything you can tell us about their investigation? I'm sitting here still hoping the girl just overdosed when she was in Dean's bathroom…" he could see Dean shake his head out of the corner of his eye. "No, sorry," Roman answered. "Dean, you need to tell me something. When did you meet Monica?" "That her real name?" Dean said hoarsely. "She introduced herself as Melody to me. I met her at a bar, last night around midnight. She said she just ran from a bad boyfriend. I… suspected she might have been a prostitute. She was, right?"

"Yeah." Roman let out a long breath and Seth sensed relief. "She was a prostitute. She… specialized in hardcore stuff, and she got hired for the long weekend by a wrestler, that's what we found out. Daniel, most of it, actually."

 _She specialized in hardcore stuff_ , Roman's voice rang in Seth's head. _What are the odds?_

"Apparently, the client got so rough with her that she split," Roman continued. "But by then, she had an injury that killed her over night. Dean, you did nothing wrong, okay?" Seth could see Dean breathe deeply, relief on his face. "Okay, that's great. I mean, not great, but, at least we know. But are you sure? How did you find out about that?" Seth asked.

"Tried to find out as much as possible, hoping to convince you to come back in case you make contact…" Dean drew breath to disagree, but Roman kept talking. "We overheard the cause of death, and Daniel managed to talk to a friend of Monica who was brought in for questioning."

"You… you did all this for us?" Dean whispered. "Daniel and the girls, too?" Seth felt like screaming, and wondered if Roman felt the same. "Of course, you idiot! I care about you, why doesn't that go into your thick head!?" Roman shouted.

"You should think the fact that he lobbied for months to get you that interview with Hunter should give you an idea…" Seth added drily. Deadly silence followed and Seth looked shocked from Dean to the phone. Dean's face looked wooden. "Thanks Seth," Roman said tonelessly. "He, you, he didn't tell you?" Seth asked perplexed. "Nope," Dean said. "Told me Hunter approached him…"

"Well, you can imagine why I did that," Roman said. "And it's not like it is important right now. Take my head off for lying to you when you are both safely home. Damn, there were things I need to tell you and now I can't get my mind straight… okay. Monica. She was hurt before she met you, so you need an alibi. Is there anyone who can account for your time since you arrived in town up to last night?" Seth saw Dean's face go blank. "Fuck." Dean said quietly. "I… wanted to be alone before meeting Hunter and seeing all of you again. And I was. Ro, I ignored your message, I didn't even want to see you, who else would I meet?" _And that still stings,_ Seth noticed.

"Nothing? No gym you went to for a workout? No sightseeing? Shopping?" Roman sounded desperate now. "No, I'm sorry!" Dean hit his head against the backrest of his seat so hard that Seth considered stopping him. "The weather was nice. I walked. I found a park, did my workout there. I probably did not speak to anyone in two days – no, wait. I was at a bar, late on Thursday."

There was a pause before Roman said: "Yeah, unfortunately they know that." "Unfortunately?" Seth asked, sitting up. "It only covers a few hours," Roman answered reluctantly. "And they said you… drank a whole bottle of bourbon and fought with the barkeeper. That does not look too good." Seth felt his body grow cold. "Fuck," he whispered. "Really, Dean?" But Dean did not meet his eyes. "Guy was an asshole," he muttered indistinctly.

Seth's mind raced, but he tried to get himself back on track. "Okay, Roman, let me get this straight. They know that the woman died from something that happened before Friday night, but they still don't exclude Dean as a suspect?" "Yes," Roman sighed. "Because they think Dean might be the customer. That she went back to him, Dean, after all. Not that she met someone unrelated." "Okay, but what about the bar where you met her, Dean? Do you think someone saw how the two of you met? That you had not met before?" Dean looked happy for a moment, but then his faced darkened again. "It was very crowded and we almost immediately went outside to talk alone, and then I took her to the hotel…" Seth groaned.

"There's another thing we know," Roman said urgently and both Seth and Dean perked up. "Monica bit the customer on the neck pretty badly. So I need you to take a picture of Dean's neck as soon as possible. It's not proof as such, but it might help. You think you can do that?"

Automatically, Seth grabbed at Dean's collar and opened the top button. He pulled roughly until he had seen both sides of his neck. Again. _You think you would have missed that when you dyed his hair?_ Embarrassed, he pulled his hands away. "Happy?" Dean asked, his face still close, expression hard. "I…" Seth looked down at his hands. "Well, there's no bite mark there. And I think we can take pictures later," he told Roman. "Ro, what are the police like?" Seth asked in return. "Are they looking for other people who might be the client?"

"Yes!" Roman said a little too quickly for Seth's taste. "Sasha might have seen Monica at our hotel, so right now they are checking the alibis of all wrestlers who are currently staying there." Dean whistled softly. "Isn't everyone there?" he asked. "Pretty much," Roman had to agree. "Any leads yet?" Seth asked. "I don't know really. They quizzed Hunter pretty intensely when they found out that he has a room to himself in addition to the family suite with Stephanie…" Seth let out a hollow laugh. "You think they suspect him? Really?"

Roman's shrug was almost audible. "You never know, right? With him being in a suit all day, it would be much easier for him to hide a bite mark, that's for sure. And he resisted when the police asked him to scan his bed for DNA." Seth found himself smirk at that. "I can think of a couple of reasons why he would not like that. Nah, I don't have anything nice to say about Hunter right now, but I'm not seeing this."

"Roman's right though, you never know," Dean said, his gaze far away. "Never know what people might do behind closed doors. What they need. Maybe… maybe he… whoever did this… hired her to protect the other people in his life. Get the dark stuff out with someone who can handle it. And then things got out of hand…"

 _You should know, right?_ Seth thought, frost creeping deeper into his soul. _We should know. Is that us? Is that what we were to you? And what happened since we are over?_ He wanted to, needed to see something, some answer in Dean's eyes, but Dean would not look at him.

"Well, I can't come up with much sympathy for Hunter right now either," Roman growled. "They played me the message he sent you. But… he says he sent a text message directly afterwards because he did not want you to listen to it. He says he did not mean it."

Seth scoffed. "Yeah, whatever. It's not like I can come back after this. WWE and I are done, and I'm not even sorry, Ro. I tried to help and save that sinking ship, but really…" he suddenly had to take a deep breath to steady his voice. "I sent the championship back, you know?" he asked.

"Yeah," Roman said softly. "Police confiscated it." "Why?" Dean asked. "No idea," Roman answered honestly. "Probably because it pissed off Hunter. Police were pretty annoyed with him at that point. He's trying to keep everything on track as much as possible. Even put Brock into our match."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Seth said, suddenly on the edge of his seat. "Is Hunter legitimately trying to kill Daniel right now?" There was surprised silence from the other end of the line and Seth ploughed on. "Did everybody forget that he's supposed to be fucking retired? His neck is fragile, and he had seizures. Seizures! For fuck's sake!" he kicked the car door and suddenly found Dean's hand on his legs.

"Calm down, we have a game plan, Daniel will be fine," Roman told them. Seth laughed darkly. "If the plan includes him and Brock in the same ring at any time, it's not safe. Trust me. I know what I'm talking about. Man, this is brilliant. Seriously, you should reconsider your priorities. You worry about us? We'll be fine. I'll make sure we lie low, stay safe, and as soon as the police have the client, we'll come back, face the music, pay the fine we'll get for obstruction of justice, whatever. Brock overdoing one move and Brie's a widow with two half-orphaned kids."

Dean's hand had moved to his back, rubbing soft circles. Seth felt out of breath from the tirade, but he would not take back one word. He still felt like laughing in despair. Roman and Daniel, worrying, getting info to protect them, the mess they had gotten themselves into, totally oblivious to the real threat they were facing.

"We brought this upon ourselves, Ro. We'll fix it. Thank you so much for all you found out. It's a great help. Say thanks to Daniel and the girls. But seriously, make sure Dan is still around when we come back." "I promise," Roman whispered. "But are you sure you will be safe?" Dean moved back into his own seat. "We have a plan. We can't tell you, but we know where we are going, we both agreed to that. Don't worry," he said.

"You're still on the road?" Roman asked. "I almost died of a heart attack when they found your car." Seth could hear him take deep breaths at the memory alone. "Did they?" Seth asked, but caught himself before asking if the idiot crashed it. "Yes. And one more thing – they tasered the guy who drove it. He's in hospital. Think about that." Dean and Seth looked at each other. Neither had expected the guy might be hurt by police. "Damn, didn't want that," Dean murmured.

"I guess you won't tell me how the guy ended up with the car?" Roman asked. "Your guess is correct," Dean said. "Roman – after we hang up, we are going to ditch this phone, just in case. But we have another one. I got the number here. Can you write it down?" "I'll save it on my own phone. If the police catch the guy, I can probably call more easily." Dean dictated the number and Roman said softly, "Got it… Feels good to know I can reach out if necessary."

"Only if it's really important, though…" Dean said. All three of them knew that they had to end the call soon, and Dean's voice got that cold, brittle tone again. "Look, Roman, of all the ways I messed up in my life… the one thing that I did well is that I made sure that no-one needs me. If this goes wrong, there is no wife, no kids. No family." Dean's words were like a physical blow into Seth's stomach and for a split second, he balled his fists to punch Dean's face for this. _Bullshit. Roman needs you. I need you._

 _But he says it to keep Roman away,_ he tried to remind himself. _To make sure Roman does not do anything stupid. For him. Us._

"Yeah, same applies to me," Seth said coldly. It felt just like whacking a steel chair into Roman's back. He expected a scream, rage. But there was only silence for what felt like a very long time. "And still," Roman finally said, "Here we are, me, and Daniel, Galina and Brie, breaking all the rules to get you back. We won't stop. If we find out more, I'll call. Until then… be safe." By his breathing, Seth could tell Roman was not finished. "I love you," Roman finally said.

Seth saw Dean freeze beside him and pressed his eyes shut. He wanted to reply. With all his heart he wanted to. But he knew the words would not come. "Don't worry, Ro. We'll be safe. Take care. We'll be back in no time." He brushed his hands over his eyes and only then noticed the wetness. "Yeah, don't worry. Thank you for everything you did. Take care." Dean added. Then he pressed the button and ended the call.

Both men sat in the car, staring at the dark phone, and found nothing to say.

"Good call, distracting his attention towards Dan," Dean finally managed. "Not like I didn't mean it," Seth answered, still trying to sort through all the new info. "Let's get going," Dean said and put his hand on the key, but Seth stopped him, held his hand in place.

"You remember what you said when I asked you if you were drunk last night?" Seth asked, an edge in his voice. "No…" Dean started, but Seth continued. "You said you did not drink "more than usual". Is a bottle of bourbon a night "usual" right now?"

"Fuck, no!" Dean pulled his hand from the key and looked at Seth. "I did not drink that much! I was supposed to meet Hunter, you think I would have turned up hung over? And anyway, I don't think it was a whole bottle on Thursday night." "But you did drink pretty much all days during the last week?" Seth asked. It was a total guess, but with this huge opportunity coming up, Seth had an idea that it might be true. That he would need something extra to take the edge off the pressure, the anxiety. "Not all days," Dean said, but the way he lowered his eyes gave Seth all the info he needed.

"In all these bags you brought back, is there a bottle of alcohol hidden somewhere?" Seth continued asking. Dean's eyes widened. "No! What are you thinking? Why would I do that?" "Because it might have been a smart move," Seth said, and pulled out the car keys. "You know, I know next to nothing about alcohol. But I do know that if you drink a lot for a while and then stop suddenly, it can be worse than if you go on." Seth shook his head softly.

"Look Dean, I don't blame you. And I'm probably overreacting. But I just told Roman I'll keep us safe. And that means you're not driving. And we'll get some alcohol when we stop for gas. Just in case you might start craving. Just to be sure." Dean still did not move.

"I'm good Seth, I promise!" he held out his hand. "No shaking, no sweat, nothing. I didn't think about alcohol up to now!" "Yeah, but then we are both probably 90% adrenaline right now," Seth moved to get out of the car. "It's a not a point I'm going to discuss. We switch. I'll drive." Seth got out and was relieved when Dean really maneuvered himself into the passenger seat.

When Seth got back in, he could see Dean nod almost imperceptibly. "You're overreacting, you'll see," he said softly. "But we'll do it your way." He met Seth's eyes and Seth nodded. _I really don't care, I don't think any less of you,_ he tried to tell Dean with his eyes. _I just need you to be safe._ "Thank you," he said finally and started the car.

They were quiet when they drove on, stopped for gas and a bottle of cheap vodka and tossed the phone from a bridge into a river. It still felt to Seth like a companionable silence, if sad. But finally, he needed to know what was on Dean's mind.

"I keep thinking about all the stuff they did for us," Dean answered. "Risks they took. I did not want that. Daniel, of all people. I probably did not call him in years." "Yeah, but Daniel does what Daniel thinks is right," Seth replied. "Though, yeah. It's pretty humbling. I left them high and dry with the championship the day before Wrestlemania. They have every right never to talk to me again. Good thing you don't always get what you deserve…"

"Did you mean what you told Roman?" Dean asked, "When you said that we'll get out of this with a fine as soon as they have the guy?" Seth sighed. "I hope. Fine, community service…" he trailed off. But no, he was not sure that they would not get locked up. "Dean?" Seth asked. "I need a promise from you." "Shoot," Dean answered. "Not saying yes before I heard it."

Seth smiled, but got serious immediately again. "I know you can't promise me you'll… make it, if we go to jail. You made that clear. What I want from you is a promise… a promise that you'll fight. Fight as hard as you can to stay alive. That's what I want. Because… because I'll always put my money on you in a fight."

He flashed Dean a tiny smile and saw tears in Dean's eyes. "Promised. I owe that to you. And to Ro, and Dan and the girls. No easy way out. Never." He took a deep breath to fight back the tears. "And I think I can do it if "forever" is not on the table. If I go down for running away like that…. if I know I'll get out, I think I'll probably get through it. But if they think I'm responsible for a death… who knows how long they would put me away…"

"From what Roman told us, I doubt the guy who did it will get put away for life," Seth said. "It's not murder, not intentional even. But that's not our problem. You just keep your mind on the fact you could not have done anything. When you entered the picture, it was all over already." He could see Dean shudder at this. "She... pretended she was okay," Dean whispered. "I could have taken her to a hospital…" "You can't blame yourself that you didn't read her mind, Dean," Seth said softly. "I shouldn't, you mean," Dean answered bitterly. "I can do it pretty well, to be honest."

They drove on in silence, Dean only speaking up to direct Seth closer to their destination. "It's not far now," Dean finally said, but Seth had assumed that as the roads got smaller and smaller, and Dean's legs more and more jiggly. Dean's nervousness was starting to get to him, too. "There it is," Dean finally said and pointed at a large gate to their left. Seth pulled the car up and lowered the window. Dean had already unfastened his seatbelt and leaned over Seth's body to reach the intercom. "It's me," was all he said when it finally sprang to life after pushing the button. That was enough, apparently. The doors opened in slow motion and Seth drove up a short driveway.

As he parked the car, Dean's hands were suddenly on his, vice-like. Seth turned and saw Dean's eyes dark and wide with fear. "Seth, what if I'm wrong? What if he calls the cops? What if I screwed up again?" Softly, Seth put his free hand on Dean's. "Then _we_ screwed up. Both of us. I agreed to this. And I think he will help us. But if it goes wrong… no blame game. We did this together. And we'll find a way. Okay?" Dean nodded wordlessly and just for a second, Seth leaned in and let his forehead rest against Dean's, dark curls touching his brow. He felt warmth wash all over him, soft, familiar. He knew he had to pull back fast if he did not want to get lost in him again.

Seth let Dean step up to the porch first, let him be the first one to be seen. In the door-frame stood a man in a purple bathrobe, wet hair plastered to his head. Seth saw Dean draw closer, and heard him say "Hi" nervously. The man looked at Dean, at Seth, and back at Dean and Seth read not even that much surprise on his face, but mostly mild exasperation. Finally, he found his voice. "Oh fuck me," William Regal said.

 **So, now you know! What do you think about their decision? Good idea? Horrible idea?**  
 **And is Roman going to worry any less now? Take less risks?**  
 **Thank you for reading, have a nice Sunday!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Wow, what a (half-)week. Haven't been that happy (Sunday) or that upset (yesterday) about wrestling in a very long time. Hope you are all okay and ready for a little escapism!**

Roman seemed dazed and even more worried when he finally emerged from the showers. "They… they send their love," he told Daniel distractedly. "In their own way." He pushed one hand through his hair. "Delete your call from the call-log, put the phones in the locker and let's shower very quickly for real, then you tell us what they said," Daniel instructed and Roman followed willingly. Back in the main area of the hall, they found they were almost alone now.

"All-talent meeting at the hotel conference room in two hours," Brie announced. "Steph hasn't been back." Daniel was chosen to go to the office and put the phone back with some random question about tomorrow in case Hunter should be there, but he wasn't, so Daniel shoved the phone in with the pile of papers easily. After that, they decided to clear out as fast as possible.

"What do you think you are doing?" An assistant stopped them at the door. "Leaving?" Daniel asked. "Police know. We go to the hotel, that's allowed. What's wrong?"

The assistant sighed deeply. "Are you serious right now? Half of the city's reporters are outside by now. You are supposed to feud, forgot? You can't go out together!" Daniel blushed. He really had forgotten for a moment. "Roman and his family first, the four of you in ten minutes," the assistant ordered.

Daniel thought the man had exaggerated when they made their way through the reporters at the hall, but when they arrived at the hotel, he understood. Roman and Galina were just getting out of their car when Brie drove into the back parking lot. Daniel assumed they had hesitated to get out, and he could see why. The moment they were out, reporters flocked them, screamed questions Daniel could hear through the closed windows. His own children in the back seat were getting restless and Jonah on Galina's arm wailed.

Roman tried to protect his wife, but the reporters pushed on relentlessly. Daniel could see him snarl at them, tell them to go away, and finally Galina found a gap, hurried through and disappeared inside. It still took Roman a little while longer to battle his way through the throng.

Brie gave Daniel a long, hard look. "You take Cait, I take Donny, we don't stop for anything or anyone," she said. Daniel complied, but immediately knew he had been assigned the harder job. As soon as the reporters closed in, Cait took a deep breath and started screaming on top of her lungs, so close to Daniel's ear that it began to ring. "Go away go away go away!" she managed in between of ear-splitting yells.

"Daniel! … don't you… Dean Ambrose… Seth… statement…" Daniel tried not to make eye contact. "What my daughter says," he murmured and thought he had never felt as relieved as when the door finally closed behind them.

Roman and Galina had waited inside, both looking disheveled, angry, exhausted. Just when Daniel had calmed down Cait, her twin brother, who had watched the whole spectacle silently, started to sob. It took everyone a while until they could regroup in Roman's room, the children finally sleeping peacefully in their cots.

"… and in the end I told them I love them… and then we hung up," Roman finished retelling the phone call. _And you knew they would not say it back, but said it anyway,_ Daniel thought. But then his mind immediately jumped back to the other things Roman had said. "Do you… do you really think Dean might hurt himself if he has to go to jail again?" he asked gently. "He certainly thinks he might," Roman answered. "I have no idea. I… can't even imagine. But as I understood it, he's scared he'll disappear in the system somehow. Never get out again."

"He… spoke of something like that in January, when I bailed him out. Saw this documentary, he said, about an intellectually disabled boy who was manipulated into confessing to a crime… that he trusted the police and thought he would be out by Wrestlemania a few weeks later, and that he's still in jail now, more than a decade later…" Roman sighed. "I didn't take it that seriously back then. He was drunk and rambling and I was tired and annoyed…" He buried his face in his hands while Galina stroked his back.

"On the upside," Daniel pointed out, "they still intend to turn themselves in as soon as the real perpetrator is found. Race against time now, really…" "And very much hinging on the question if they really think they need to find someone except Dean," Roman said. "The bar story, that does not sound good. And now I know they won't find anyone to give Dean a good alibi. Even if someone saw him in that park, that's never going to cover enough time to clear him."

"What did you tell them about the investigation?" Brie asked. "Tried to sell it better than I see it, of course," Roman answered gruffly. "Kind of… kind of told them they are looking into Hunter as a suspect." Brie shrugged. "Well, I think they do," she said.

"You weren't all that surprised that Hunter had his own room, too," Daniel interjected and Brie shrugged again. "Marriage is really rocky, I know that. Because of Vince, mostly, I think. They're not seeing eye-to-eye and with them, that influences everything – work and home life. But really, I can't see Hunter doing that, being into that stuff. And Stephanie – wouldn't we have noticed if she had strange bruises, something?" Brie looked around, but no-one answered.

"Dean said…" Roman finally replied slowly. "Dean said something about that some people might use women like Monica to… to get the dark stuff out of the way. So that it does not hurt other people." There was a pregnant pause before Daniel added. "I guess you never really know. But, I think Roman and I need to get going."

They glanced at their phones. "You think I should I get dressed for the charity event?" Brie asked Daniel. "Not sure, though I hope they'll let us go, if only to distract attention from today's events…" Daniel answered, shrugging. Both men kissed their wives and left.

"Ro?" Daniel asked immediately after the door closed and he was sure they were alone in the corridor. "Did Seth really say that you should be more worried about me than about him and Dean?" Roman turned, and murmured: "Yes. And I actually toned it down a lot when I mentioned in front of our wives. I don't want Brie to worry any more, but Seth really lost his shit when I told him Brock was in our match. He got pretty intense. I'm not going to repeat his exact words."

Daniel shook his head. "Fits, though. That Seth maybe wouldn't even consider what danger _he_ might be in. Also that he would say he's not sorry for leaving WWE." Roman took a deep breath. "I think you're right about Seth, Dan, but are you right about yourself?" "What?" Daniel looked up and saw anger in Roman's face.

"It's not like Seth doesn't have a point. We work for weeks, _weeks_ to keep you safe in our match, now Brock comes along and he really does not have the best track-record in these things, and what do we do? We do some half-assed practice, our minds on other things. I got hurt twice today because I wasn't focused, well, that's my problem. But that can't happen to you! Tomorrow, we need to step up our game so we'll have a safe match. I want all three of you safe, God damn it!"

Daniel tried pacifying smile. "Okay, big dog. You're right. More focus on the match tomorrow. But I'll be fine. And now we need to get to the conference room, we're late already."

* * *

The room was already full and Daniel could see Hunter on a small stage, talking to a uniformed cop. He looked around and also found Detectives Moore and Adams close to, apparently arguing. Daniel strained his ears. "I'm leaving," Daniel could hear the younger detective say. "You really want to…. fine, but I'll go…." But Detective Moore had realized how his colleague's voice rose. He said something Daniel did not hear and pushed the younger man out by the shoulder.

There were a few seats still available in the conference room, but when the others saw who had entered, faces turned hard, and discarded jackets and bags were not moved to make space for them.

 _That was quick_ , Daniel thought. Finally he saw a hand wave him and Roman over from the far side of the room – it turned out to belong to Neville, who sat with a little Anglo-Irish group also including Finn, Becky and Paige. They murmured a word of thanks and sat down, as Hunter was ready to speak.

He started out with words of praise for the work done today, for their coolness under pressure, but soon turned to the matter at hand again. "I need to bring you up to speed to the investigation of the death of… " _He forgot her name. He actually forgot her name_ , Daniel though. "… the young woman… found… by Dean Ambrose this morning. As things stand now," Hunter said, "The police are still looking for Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins. While there was some brief hope that they were found, it turned out that they had abandoned Seth's car. The car chase that let to the arrest of the individual who drove Seth's car was, unfortunately, well covered by the local and national press."

"Ladies, gentlemen, the heat is on. The press will be very interested in every detail. As are you, of course, as it pertains to two men we all worked with for years. The police allow me to tell you the following: They are now convinced that Dean and Seth travel in a car previously owned by the man they found in Seth's car. They followed their tracks to a hotel, but apparently, they had already vacated the premises." Daniel dared to shoot the tiniest glance at Roman, but the Samoan's poker face was perfect.

"All this is, of course, strictly confidential. We are indebted to the police to give us this information at all. Whatever we think of Dean and Seth and what they did – I want to remind you that it is in all of our interest that the police find them soon, so that the whole matter can be resolved and WWE can go back to what we're known for – best sports entertainment in the world."

"In the same line, I have two requests, and then you are released. First, the police are establishing the whereabouts of all male wrestlers between Thursday and the start of the Hall of Fame ceremony Friday night. Most of you have probably been interviewed already, but if this is news to you, please contact the police soon. Second, as there is still a lot of media scrutiny on us, WWE decided together with the sponsors that you will not attend any events tonight."

Daniel groaned, loud enough to carry through the whole room. "Daniel, where were you supposed to go tonight?" Hunter asked from the podium. "Pediatric Cancer Society," Daniel called back. Hunter was just about to answer when there was a voice somewhere behind Daniel. "Oh come on, cheer up," it sneered "There will be dying children next week, there's no rush." Daniel whipped his head around to see who said it, but could not place the voice. "Excuse me?" Daniel said fiercely to the back rows in general. _When did this place get so hostile?_

There was murmuring all around, but Hunter had not heard the comment from the back row. "Sorry Dan," he said from the stage. "You can be sure we'll reschedule as fast as possible. But you know who to thank for this." "Yes," Daniel said before his brain could catch up with his mouth. "Someone who is probably staying at this very hotel, someone who injured a woman so badly she died shortly after. And who does not have the guts to come forward to exonerate the guy who panicked after finding her body. That is what you were implying, right?"

Deadly silence fell across the room and Daniel could even feel Roman next to him staring at him. "Daniel, I find this just as upsetting as you do," Hunter replied calmly. "But we have to trust the police, help them as much as we can and hope we'll get to the truth soon, whatever that truth will be. For now, we need to focus on what we do. Have a spectacular Wrestlemania tomorrow, no matter what. Get some extra sleep, do some extra work-out. Use the free time and we'll have an amazing show tomorrow. Pre-show briefing will take place as planned. That's it from me. Thank you, everyone." There was reluctant applause as everybody got up to leave the room.

"Pathetic," Daniel heard a voice say and recognized Rusev, usually almost intractable accent heightened by anger. He was staring at Roman from the row in front of them. "Anything you want to tell me?" Roman asked, dangerously calm. "I know what you did for Dean," Rusev said, but before Daniel could panic, he added, "Getting that job interview for him with Hunter. Saw you begging at his feet for weeks. And how does he repay you? Goes out to bars, fucks prostitutes in his sponsored hotel. Gets himself in trouble and drags our champ into it. All of us. Even if he didn't hurt that woman, you should be livid. But you are making excuses for him. We should all be on the job, working, not fucking around, partying. Or moping for some disloyal friend."

Roman made a move forward, and again, Daniel caught one of his arms and Finn the other one. Others held Rusev by the shoulder and made sure he left the room while Roman stayed, staring after him.

"Leave him be," Finn said when the room was almost empty. "You know he's in a bad place."

Of course, they all knew. Most of them had known Rusev and Lana through pretty much all of their courtship, they had been around for the engagement and the wedding, and now they were witnesses to separation and the increasingly nasty divorce – both of them being integral parts of the main roster only made it all worse.

"They're upset with Dean and Seth, and, well, you're close to them, so they are angry at you, too. Don't take it personally," Finn said. He let go of Roman's arm, patted his shoulder companionably and left. "Yeah," Neville said, following Finn. "And Rusev's a classic case of 'look who's talking' anyway"… It needed to sink in for a second until Daniel said: "Wait, what?" Neville stopped and started to color slightly. "Oh, nothing."

"Neville?" Roman asked. Neville rolled his eyes. "Roman, really, you can't think one of us did this? We basically live together! I believe that Dean just panicked, but by the same logic I also can't see Rusev doing this." "But you said 'look who's talking' for a reason," Daniel pressed. "I'm not getting out of here unless I tell you, right?" Neville looked from one at the other and then shook his head.

"Seriously. This is nothing. If it was, the police would have found out without me. Okay, but only if you promise not to read too much into it. I have the room next to him and he definitely had sex in that room Thursday and Friday. Like, a lot. But, come on, he's just on the rebound…"

"Did you see the woman in the corridor, maybe?" Daniel asked. "Nope," Neville said testily, "Because I have no intention of spying on my co-workers! Guys, come on! This is Rusev! We shared food, cars, training space for years! What do I care if I hear moaning or crying from his room? It's none of my business!"

"Crying?" Roman said and Neville rolled his eyes again. "Damn. I'm not sure. And I don't want to know. Guys, leave Rusev alone, seriously. You're on thin ice as it is. Don't isolate yourself more. Give the same trust you give to Dean to us other guys as well, okay? Seth and Dean are not the only people in the world, Ro." With that he turned and left.

Roman and Daniel went back to their room in silence and only resumed the discussion when they had ordered room service and sat down with their wives. "Okay, I see what Neville means, I like Rusev, too, but he heard sex and crying? That's pretty ominous…" Brie said thoughtfully. "We agreed that just liking people doesn't prove anything," Roman said.

"I've been thinking…" Daniel said. "Carolyn said that Monica called the guy a "Brute". What if she knew a little wrestling, and Rusev's old Bulgarian Brute moniker? She might have used that word on purpose."

"Another thing Neville said is true, though – the police would have questioned him, right?" Galina asked. "Might have made something up," Brie suggested. "I looked at his neck – well, I tried to look at everybody's neck – but I could not see anything. But he might have put make-up on it…" A knock stopped their deliberations and food arrived.

"Brie, you still know any of the make-up girls?" Daniel asked between bites. "No," she answered. "None of the girls I knew still work for WWE. Payment issues, I think. Sorry." "I'm just really curious…" Daniel continued… "I mean, I suppose they know a lot of intimate stuff. Would the police think about questioning them? If someone came in with a bite-mark they covered up?" Roman looked up. "You think we could ask those girls?"

Daniel seemed to contemplate this while finishing his food in silence. Then, out of nowhere, he pulled down his t-shirt and slapped his collarbone hard. The others stared at him. "Hm," he said. "Seems like Cait accidentally hit me with her toy digger. Better see the make-up girls to make sure they have time to cover it up if it shows tomorrow."

* * *

It took only one phone call to the personal assistants and Daniel had a room number. Upon his knock, a cheerful girl with a pixie haircut opened the door. "Daniel Bryan! Well, welcome to the underbelly of the WWE" she laughed and let him move past her.

The girl introduced herself as Kaya and also introduced the two other women who she was sharing with, but Daniel was distracted by the mayhem of the room. Total chaos on the first glance, it soon became clear that the room was actually almost meticulously tidy, but just way too small to hold three women and all their equipment.

"Yeah, sorry, I know what this looks like. But nowadays we have to bring our own gear and it's just too risky to leave it in the arena over night. The stuff just grows legs. So we haul everything back into our room. Not much space left." She shrugged. "So, what can I do for you?"

Daniel explained his story and Kaya immediately grabbed his shirt and inspected the collarbone. "Ah, I don't even think this will show but if it does, I'm your girl, no problem, you ask for me. I'm in charge of the guys, Beverly does the girls, Miko is basically just here to do Finn's body painting." "You think you have to do a lot of cover-ups tomorrow?" Kaya shrugged.

"The usual, I'd say. I hardly ever do real cover-ups, I mean bruises add to the brutality of it all, right? Just if it's obviously wrong for the story or a love bite or something, then they ask me to. What I do most is to make rashes less visible, when there are allergies or stress or something." "Do many guys come in with love bites?" Daniel went in for the kill. He could hear Miko and Beverly giggle. "Come on, indulge me on some gossip!" he winked at her.

"Nah," Kaya said and colored a little, "Only one guy really, but him pretty often." Daniel could feel his heart speed up. "But that is Seth Rollins and he won't show up at all, will he?" she asked, suddenly a sad note in her voice. Daniel didn't know what to say for a second. "Just as well, the fucking cover-up kit still did not turn up. People here are like magpies," Beverly interjected. "You lost a cover-up kit?" Daniel asked immediately. Beverly snorted. "I damn sure didn't lose it. It disappeared some time yesterday or today. Those things are expensive but do you think anyone cares? Seriously, I'm so done with this place."

"She's right," Kaya said and sighed. "Would you believe that they still have not told us if we will be on board after Wrestlemania? Our contracts end tomorrow. We have no idea if we'll be re-hired. Yesterday, they fired five guys who were supposed to do the light and sound tomorrow. Five guys. Said they had misjudged how many people they needed. The remaining guys are so pissed, you should not be surprised if you walk out tomorrow and the lighting shows a giant middle finger." She took a deep breath. "Ah, sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"No, no," Daniel said, truly shocked at what he had heard. "I didn't know. And it's good to know that if I walk out to a giant middle finger, it's not personal," Daniel tried and Kaya really smiled back. "It's just been a hellish week," she said finally. "And with all that trouble that went down today… well, guess who gets screamed at when the tiniest thing goes wrong?" "Wow, I'm so sorry," Daniel said. "Is there anything I can do?" "Nah. But I appreciate that you asked. Stop by tomorrow if that bruise really comes out."

Daniel turned to leave, but then asked: "Did you girls get questioned by the police at all?" "No, why?" Kaya asked back. "They can go find my fucking cover-up kit if they're bored!" Beverly called over. "No matter," Daniel said and left with a small wave.

* * *

"Anything?" Roman asked immediately when Daniel returned. "Working for WWE sucks more and more the further down the ladder you are," Daniel said. "No big surprise," Roman answered.

"But nothing pertinent?" Daniel tried to recap the most important points briefly. "So, no bite mark that she covered, not on Rusev or anyone. But that missing kit… I mean, coincidence?" "Not fucking likely," Roman said. "But hard to pin on anyone if she doesn't even know when it went missing."

"Dan, I've been thinking too…" Roman continued, and Daniel saw his fingers twitch nervously. "I need to know what's going on with Rusev. If Neville heard that right, or if it was maybe another room or something. And if came from Rusev's room… I need to know who that woman was. I made a couple of calls – next to Rusev on the other side is Kevin Owens. Need to talk to him, if he heard those things too, maybe saw someone."

"And if Kevin heard the same stuff?" Daniel asked slowly. "Confront Rusev, I guess," was Roman's answer. Daniel frowned. "We need to tread lightly here. I mean, that really is police work. We should go to them if we really think he's involved." Roman nodded. "But would you come along to see Kevin?" Daniel considered Roman, looking all cold determination, but of course he knew better, knew how frightened his friend really was. He ignored the bad feeling in his stomach and nodded. "Sure. Let's go."

 **So, what do you think? Was Rusev the client or this is just a red herring? (Bad pun half intended, but I thought "is the Big Dog barking up the wrong tree" would have been even worse ;) ).**

 **The true crime documentary with the Wrestlemania reference is "Making a Murderer".**

 **Sunday, Detectives Reigns and Bryan will interview Kevin Owens. Let's see how that turns out...**

 **Thank you for reading, hope I see you on Sunday!**


	15. Chapter 15

Roman knocked on the door, and Kevin opened pretty quickly. His face fell instantly when he saw them. "Kevin, we need to talk to you," Roman announced. The other man sighed. "Give me one minute, I'm on the phone." He closed the door in their faces. Daniel's bad feeling started to grow worse and worse, but soon enough, Kevin opened the door again and let them in.

"Family not here?" Daniel asked, trying to make conversation. "Not yet," Kevin answered. "Arrive tomorrow. So, what can I do for you?"

"Kevin, we were wondering… if you heard any strange noise coming from the next room in the last few days," Roman went straight in. Kevin smiled and shook his head. "Well, at least no unnecessary small-talk. So, easy answer. I won't tell you, because it is none of your business."

"You know why I'm asking this, Kevin," Roman said, calm but with an edge to his voice. "Someone hurt that woman and Dean and Seth are in danger as long as that person is not found. Don't tell me you don't care about that."

"I do Roman, actually, I do." Kevin answered, his voice still light. "But that's why I talked to the police. Small reminder: You are not the police. You are my co-worker, and we have a job to do, and it's not playing detective."

Daniel felt his heart sink. He put a hand on Roman's arm, signaling him to let it go, leave. But Roman was not done. "The police don't get it! And with Dean and Seth on the run, they look guilty, but we know they are not. Kevin, you've been close to them for so long, why aren't you helping here?"

"Nice of you to acknowledge that there are other people who might care about Seth and Dean. But, sorry – I also care about Rusev. And Neville. And Sasha. And everyone else you badgered today because of this. In fact I care about most of the team. About both of you, too, actually, and that's why I'm telling you – stop this. Dean and Seth – they made their decision and they'll have to live with the consequences. And they hurt all of us pretty badly by what they did."

"I'm asking you: Stop. Stop loitering around the police instead of working on the match. Stop making it so very clear that you don't trust them. Stop making us all look suspicious with that. Focus on your performance. You'll probably be our headliner now and a good show might help us all feed our families for the next year. We need the ratings; do I really have to remind you of that? We need to stick together here." He looked at both of them in turn and Daniel found it hard to hold his gaze. Roman shook his head, though.

"I'm sorry, Kevin. I get what you're saying, but Seth and Dean are in so much more danger, I can't risk that the police might only look one way at who did this. I need to put Seth and Dean first," he said. Kevin snorted, and now there was real venom in his voice. "Fine, I'm not surprised, not by you, at least. You always made your priorities clear, but you Dan? Seriously? What the hell do you think you are doing, helping Roman with that stupid stunt? It's not like you!"

"Thank you for your concern," Daniel said drily, "But I got used to making my own decisions in my almost 40 years on this planet." It stung him what Kevin had said, and he could tell what it might look like from the outside. How disloyal it seemed.

"Suit yourself!" Kevin threw his hands up. "But you know you are fooling yourself if you think he would actually do the same for you, right? Not when it were Seth or Dean at the other side of the scales. If push comes to shove, it's the three of them against the world and I know very well, no matter how close I am to Seth or Dean, if it's me or Roman, they'd throw me under the bus in a split second. It's no different for you, trust me." His voice had grown ice cold and Daniel could not meet his eyes anymore.

"This is not about loyalty, it really isn't, Kevin. And it's not a popularity contest, either. It's about who needs help most. You don't know all the facts about this," Daniel said, as calmly as he could and glanced at Roman, hoping for a sign if he would be allowed to tell Kevin about Dean's situation, his fears about what he might do if caught.

"Oh, really," Kevin sounded exhausted now. "You mean their decade-long star-crossed- lovers routine? You think that makes any of this more plausible? You think I should be less angry about what they did because I know how they feel about each other?" Daniel was stunned for a moment, unsure whether to explain what he had really meant, but before he could decide what to say, Roman asked: "You know?" Kevin rolled his eyes. "Seriously, now you're insulting my intelligence."

A polite cough came from the door, a cough that was definitely only meant to get attention. All three men turned. Detective Moore leaned in the open doorway, and closer to them, face shining with rage and barely held back tears, was Lana. "Shitty timing," Kevin murmured.

"Kevin called me, said you were snooping," Lana said, voice trembling. "Heard from others you were asking around for Rusev's room number. Neville confessed what he told you. So, I thought I tell you myself – _I_ was in that room with Rusev. And it was me who Neville heard crying."

Roman looked at his feet. "But the divorce?" Daniel asked and immediately wished he had kept his mouth shut. "Fuck, you think it's so easy, Daniel?" Lana said and now she was full out crying. "Newsflash – it isn't. It's so fucking hard." She sobbed loudly, her words almost unintelligible. "You can't imagine, for Brie as you still are. You can't imagine what it's like if you know it does not work between you and the one you love, but still see each other every day, and every night at the hotel…." Her sobbing got so hard that she could not go on and she covered her face with her hands.

"Lana, I'm so sorry. I didn't want that," Roman whispered, but didn't dare to approach her. It took a while until she had recovered enough to go on. "I… I brought the detective just so you know, they knew all along. Because why the fuck would we lie to the police? They tested his bed and, surprise, there is only my and his DNA on it. And they kept it quiet, because that's their job, Ro, Dan. And now you're stirring everything up and by tomorrow everybody will talk about Rusev fucking around or how I can't quit Rusev, depending on what the gossip will be. Everybody will talk, stare. Thanks for that. Thank you. I needed that on top of everything else." She sniffed one more time and turned to leave. She brushed past Detective Moore, who tried a comforting gesture to stop her, but she ignored him. "Mr. Reigns, Mr. Bryan. I think we need to have another talk," the detective said.

* * *

The police had apparently acquired a hotel room of their own – the amount of the equipment on the bed and the additional chairs and tables made it clear that this was an office now.  
Daniel and Roman had followed the policeman without complaint, feeling low, defeated, stupid. Detective Moore made them sit at a table and sat down on the opposite site, while two tired-looking uniformed policemen were sorting through files in the background. A sharp knock on the open door revealed Hunter and Stephanie, looking anxious. "Ah, glad you could come," the detective said. "Sit, please."

 _He's going for the great audience again,_ Daniel thought. _What's his endgame here?_ "Gentlemen, I actually came up to give you a reminder of what I told you earlier – that I won't have anyone, _anyone_ meddling in my investigation. Mr. Reigns, Mr. Bryan, I have seriously considered taking the two of you into custody over night…" Roman and Daniel sat stunned and it was actually Hunter who straightened up to defend them. Detective Moore cut him off immediately.

"I said I considered it, but I can fully well anticipate the uproar I'd get for jailing to people who seem to be crucial to your event tomorrow. I don't want the press attention of that, I don't want you complaining that I treat anyone unfairly. So, Mr. Helmsley, I won't take them into custody, but that is at this point a courtesy to ensure your fullest cooperation. That includes, but is not limited to, not questioning your co-workers and keeping important information from me."

"Speaking of which – who of you is going to explain to me what Mr. Owens meant by "star-crossed lovers routine"?" Hunter next to Daniel froze up slightly. Daniel tried to catch Roman's eye, but the Samoan just looked at the floor.

"Just that…" Roman finally said. "That they were lovers at some point. It's a private matter and not my secret to tell. It doesn't matter, anyway." "Mr. Reigns, let me be very clear. I asked you, all of you, several times about the relationship of these two men, and no-one bothered to mention it?" Detective Moore tossed down a pen he had been holding. "Of course it matters! Surely it opens quite some more possibilities as to why Mr. Rollins would go with Mr. Ambrose. There's blackmail, for one." Daniel groaned, felt his patience slip. "Or the somewhat easier explanation that Seth still loves Dean," he replied.

"It's strange, though," The detective said. "I held this info back because it did not seem pertinent, but of course we went to search Mr. Rollins' room, where we met a woman who said she had spent the night with him." Roman rolled his eyes. "And I don't see why it is any more pertinent now. Dean woke up next to a female prostitute, after all." The detective smiled the tiniest smile.

"Detective, I'm sorry, but really, it's not like we covered up something here," Hunter interjected. "Dean and Seth were friends and co-workers for a decade, always close, now apparently not in touch anymore. What they did behind closed doors… really, we might have had suspicions, but there was never anything official!" Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel could see Stephanie nod at that. _If Seth and Dean ever thought their affair was secret,_ he thought _, they have been fooling themselves good and hard._

"So you knew, too," Detective Moore stated drily. "Suspected!" Hunter answered. "We did not know anything for a fact."

"Hm," the Detective looked at his papers. "Then maybe you can answer a couple of other questions. I told you that we found a hotel room they used, probably to change their appearances. Both signed the guest book. Mr. Ambrose used 'Dirk Diggler', well, that is a classic when it comes to fake names in hotel guest books. Mr. Rollins now… he signed 'Shawn Helmsley' Shawn is the name of your brother, Mrs. Helmsley, yes? Why would he do that?"

"No," Stephanie whispered. "My brother is Shane. S-H-A-N-E. I guess the name he spelled is S-H-A-W-N?" "Indeed," Detective Moore confirmed. "Excuse me. I have to check on my children," Stephanie said and rose from her seat. "I have nothing to say to this anyway. Hunter can explain." The detective did not try to make her stay and fixed his eyes on Hunter instead. "Shawn is… a family friend," Hunter said with difficulty.

Daniel heard Roman take a deep breath and saw a look of pity pass from him to Hunter. "Shawn Michaels is a wrestler, too. An all-time idol of Seth's. They are similar in style, to some degree," Roman explained. "And, you know that Hunter here had been a mentor to Seth for a long time. It doesn't mean anything. It's just the combination of two wrestlers he admires. I've seen him use that pseudonym a lot when we were younger. Probably still had Hunter on his mind from his nasty call."

"Ah," Detective Moore said non-committed, but watched the wordless interaction between the two men with interest. "And, would Mr. Michaels be in town, by any chance?" Daniel suspected he might be, but had not seen him. "Yes, he's here." Hunter confirmed.

"Good. Another thing." Without any further ado, he took an object from the bed behind him and put in on the table. It was a gun in a see-though evidence bag and it took Daniel a few seconds to realize that it was a toy. It meant nothing to him, and looking left and right, he could see that Hunter and Roman did not recognize it, either. He felt apprehension rise inside him.

"We found this in the hotel room," Detective Moore explained. "Their prints are on them. Both sets. One set on the trigger, one on the barrel. Humor me. You know them so well. Why do they buy a toy gun, then leave it behind, and whose prints are where?"

Roman's answer came almost too quickly. "Dean's on the trigger, Seth's on the barrel. Am I right?" The detective smiled. "It was a 50/50 chance, but yes. Correct. So, explain to me what you think happened there." Roman closed his eyes briefly. "Dean… Dean probably bought it. To feel safer. I don't know. Seth figured that if your guys catch them, they might be… hurt if they have a gun with them, even just a toy. Seth makes Dean leave it behind." Detective Moore nodded slowly, but didn't speak.

"I remembered something…" Roman said slowly and Daniel guessed it was because he was afraid to give himself away. "Something Dean said when I picked him up after being arrested in January. How scared he is that he will go to jail and never come out. He'd been watching stuff about people who were wrongly convicted…" Roman's voice trailed off, but Detective Moore picked up the thread "… and now you think that's why he's on the run even though he is innocent?" Roman nodded. "Maybe. I don't know."

Detective Moore looked pensively at the wall behind them for a while. "Gentlemen," he finally said, "What you told me just now makes me think that the two men are very likely to avoid arrest at any cost. Which might mean acute danger to my men. I'd like to believe that Mr. Rollins discarded the gun because he saw how much trouble this might lead to. But the other option would be that he disagreed that they should bother with a toy. That they would need something more powerful. If Mr. Ambrose entertains the idea that he might be unjustly persecuted and Mr. Rollins shares that crazy idea, everybody trying to bring them in might be in a lot of danger. Folie à deux, I think this is called."

"They are not dangerous," Roman said flatly, carefully choosing his words. _And they don't have a psychotic breakdown,_ Daniel thought, _But we can't give away that we talked to them._ "Of course they are," the Detective said calmly. "All of you are. You fight for a living. You know very well how to hurt people." "Actually, we are all very good at _not_ hurting people while pretending to do so," Hunter interjected. "Is there so much difference?" Detective Moore asked. "All the difference in the world," Daniel replied through gritted teeth.

Detective Moore raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Alright. You know, the problem is that I have to assume the worst. To protect my men. You understand that?" All three wrestlers stared back stony-faced, in no mood to agree. "Anyway. I think I made my point. Mr. Reigns, Mr. Bryan. You escaped serious trouble by a hair's breadth today. No more going behind the back of the police, no spreading suspicion. We know how to do our jobs."

 _No you don't_ , it went searing hot through Daniel. _You think we're all dangerous brutes, all capable of this. You're not looking behind the curtain. You play Carolyn tapes that don't hold our real voices. You don't go the logical steps to see how we would hide a bite mark._ But he couldn't have the outburst he felt like having, not if he didn't want to end up in a cell.

Detective Moore made a gesture as if to dismiss them and they all rose. Daniel's head spun. He knew this was it, he could do more to help, but he would not be allowed to. Could not risk going behind the back of the police again. But maybe if he laid it straight out on the table… point them into the right direction…

"One thing I heard, just wanted to tell you, in case it might be relevant…" he said. "Yes?" The detective asked. "One of the make-up girls told me that a make-up kit used to camouflage serious bruises was stolen from her today. Maybe it's related to the bite mark…" and then Daniel realized his mistake.

The Detective went almost purple; the uniformed cops behind him stopped leafing through papers. "What bite mark? Where did you hear about a bite mark?" The detective asked in a deadly tone of voice. Daniel tried to collect his thoughts. Carolyn had told him about it. No one else had. He was not supposed to know.

"Don't know, heard somewhere that the dead woman might have bit the one who hurt her… can't remember who said it…" he said. The Detective still seethed visibly. "This was no information that we wanted public. Who else knows? Mr. Reigns? Mr. Helmsley?" Before Daniel could give him a signal of any kind, Roman nodded. "But I can't remember where I heard it, either." Hunter just shook his head in genuine-looking surprise.

"I need to reconsider what I said about the two of you spending the night in jail," the detective fumed. "And if I find the person who told you…" he shot a quick glance at the uniformed cops, who almost flinched under their boss's anger. "Who else did you tell? Your wives, I'm sure, don't even try to deny that. Who else?" Both men shook their head. "No-one. You might have noticed we lost friends during the last hours," Daniel said.

"Please, Detective," Hunter said. "Don't put them in jail. You cautioned them now and they are not going to come near you and your men again, I promise that. If I have to, I'll lock them up in the arena until their match comes up, but, please... Daniel actually came forward with something he knew. Don't punish him for coming clean. I'll take personal responsibility for them, please…"

Daniel felt numb, as if his body didn't belong to him anymore. He had stupidly given them away. And Roman, blindly loyal Roman, had put himself on the line right alongside with him. Who knew what else they might find should they look at their movements more closely now. At this very moment, he was ridiculously thankful that Hunter had taken over their defense. Daniel knew nothing to say and Roman next to him also looked too scared to open his mouth again.

The detective looked at each of the three men. Finally, he said: "Mr. Helmsley, I'll take your word. For now. You two, out of my sight, before I reconsider. I don't want to see you unless I ask for you, and then you'll show up immediately. Understood?" Daniel and Roman nodded and turned to leave. Hunter stayed. Daniel pulled to close the door behind him, but for some reason, it didn't latch. While he stood there, he heard Detective Moore take a deep breath and speak up again.

"Mr. Helmsley, I want to talk to you about testing your room one more time. Let me pose this hypothetical scenario. Some time during Thursday night, a friend of yours visited you at your private room. Just to check up on you, talk. You forgot to mention him to us. Wasn't all that important. Perhaps he wore shorts, it was a warm week, after all. Maybe he sat on your bed, cross-legged, while you talked, leaving traces of sweat and skin on the sheets that would show up on a DNA scan."

"See, if I were to do that quick scan, I'd only get the results that there are two different DNA traces on the sheets – but as they are both male, I don't even have to run them. I can truthfully write down in my report that there were no traces of the dead woman on your sheets, and we are done. Mr. Helmsley, would you maybe reconsider allowing us to run the test?"

Daniel had heard enough and tried to sneak away as quietly as possible to where Roman was waiting for him at the end of the corridor. "Let's get some air," Roman said before Daniel had even opened his mouth.

On this level of the hotel, there was a little lounge with a balcony overlooking the parking lot. Daniel could see the reporters parked down there, waiting for exclusive news during the night, but the screens hid them from their view. Even though it was dark now, the air was still warm. Roman let himself fall into one of the deck chairs and buried his face in his hands.

"Ro, I'm so sorry," Daniel said. "I screw up. It's my fault." "Doesn't matter," Roman said, muffled through his hands. "Somehow, someone would slip up. Doesn't matter it was you. You helped so much. Did so much of the talking." A shudder went through Roman's body. Daniel carefully put a hand on his friend's shoulder. He felt utterly helpless. Under his fingers, he felt the hard, jerky movements of Roman's muscles as he started to sob.

"They're gone, Daniel. I won't get them back," he whispered in between. "I'll never see them again." Daniel shook his head. "Do you want to call them? Tell them to be careful?" _Hear their voices again?_ "No…" Roman looked up and there was determination in his eyes. "I'll make it worse. Seth is trying to be careful, but if Dean heard they see him as high risk… it would just escalate things further. And every call is a risk that they will be traced. No. Even… even if that means I might have heard their voices f…." He couldn't say the words, cried harder again and Daniel knelt down next to him. "Not. True. They have a plan. Trust them a little." He tried to smile.

Roman looked at him, suddenly thoughtful, through red-rimmed, glassy eyes. "You know, what Kevin said… about me throwing you under the bus for them…" Daniel rolled his eyes. "Doesn't matter. " "I'm… I'm just really grateful you are doing this, okay?" Daniel nodded. "Don't worry." He let Roman cry a little longer until he finally stopped, and rubbed at his eyes. "Can't let Jojo see me like this," he whispered. They remained on the balcony, staring into the night, but neither man had anything left to say.

They went back to their rooms in silence, glad not to meet anyone. "Tomorrow, focus on the match. Make it good, and most of all safe for you," Roman told Daniel at the door. _Whatever takes your mind off the fact that we can't do anything for Seth and Dean anymore_ , Daniel thought, but nodded anyway.

Roman had never slept well the night before Wrestlemania. This year, he had hoped the soft breathing of his wife and the two children would calm him. But he was still awake at 3 am, his phone in his hand, the display set to call a certain number. He knew he would not press the button. Could not. Like he could not do anything else. Anything at all. "I'm so sorry," he whispered towards the display and felt the tears well up again.

 **Okay, okay, I admit this was pretty bleak even by my standards. (Though I have the feeling it accidentally fits pretty well with the current overall mood of my home continent…)**

 **Anyway, please remember - it's always darkest before the dawn. Wednesday, back to Seth, Dean and William and… yeah. Hope very much you'll all be around. Kind of nervous.**

 **Cultural Reference in this chapter: "Dirk Diggler" is a character from Boogie Nights.**

 **Also, Detective Moore has no idea what exactly a Folie à deux is.**

 **Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it! See you Wednesday (I hope)!**


	16. Chapter 16

William ushered Seth and Dean inside quickly, but Seth remained extra vigilant and watched their old mentor's every move. But no matter how hard he looked, he only saw relief, exasperation and worry as he drew Dean into a tight hug, bombarding him with questions. He would not give them up, Seth was pretty sure. There was too much tenderness in his greetings. It should not hurt, he thought.

Finally, William stepped up to Seth and put his face between his hands. The callused skin felt strange on his freshly shaved cheeks. "Seth," William said. "You got him here. I don't know what you're doing, but… Thanks that you did not let him do it alone. You gave up so much for him…" Seth was also hugged tightly and he felt himself relax in the embrace. For now, they would be safe.

They told their story as William put some frozen pizzas in the oven and immediately produced a camera when they explained about the bite mark. "If this goes wrong…" Dean said. "We can say we didn't tell you, maybe you didn't go online the whole day, something…" William smiled. "My phone is blowing up with reporters who want a word on you, but I didn't answer any of them. Big advantage of being out of WWE… but I think the fact that Seth is here and not at Wrestlemania might have tipped me off anyway…"

He winked as he put a pizza in front of each man and immediately placed the next one in the oven. "I figured your day was probably stressful enough that some more calories are welcome. Then you can get comfortable in the guest room, relax a little. It's getting late. Tomorrow, we'll think about what to do." Dean smiled at Seth and nodded. Finally, he felt that he could breathe, stop his spinning head, feel a little more normal. He had to react quickly to slap Dean's hand away from the last slice of his pizza. Yeah. Normal.

When they had eaten so much that they could not possibly go on, they took their stuff from the car and Dean led them into the guest bedroom upstairs. Seth noticed how familiar he was with the layout of the house, the way he moved as if it was his own place. Dean unconsciously dropped his bags on one side of the double bed. The one you always use? Or just to dump your stuff before sleeping in the master bedroom? Thinking like that was not fair to anyone, Seth realized.

"Bathroom is over there," Dean pointed. "I need to get out of these clothes, maybe we could take the pictures?" he asked. Seth had taken the camera up with them and switched on all the lights he could find. It was hard to see Dean struggle out of his shirt, his injured shoulder obviously hurting him with every bigger movement. Seth felt his fingers itch to help him, ease the shirt off his shoulders… but he did not want to make Dean feel like an invalid and busied himself with the camera instead.

Seth took way too many pictures of Dean's upper body, just to make sure that no-one could say that he had missed it. "You've… been here a lot lately, haven't you?" Seth asked gently between shots. "Mmm," Dean agreed, not moving. "He's… he doesn't ask questions. I can just randomly turn up if… if I don't know where else to go." Seth digested this in silence. Yes, you can't come to me. I'm on the road, never home. Always moving.

"I'm glad we're here," Seth said over the hurt. "Yeah," Dean answered. Seth had taken all pictures he could want and Dean pulled on his old hoodie. "I'll go back down," he announced. "Garden. It's… really pretty. Quiet." Seth nodded. "I think I want a shower. I'll see you later."

Seth took his time, trying to wash it all off – the fear, the rejection. They had made it so far. And they were safe now, as safe as they could be for the time being. Sure, the knock on the door could come at any moment, but until then, there was warmth, food, friends, even. But Dean was not there. Not really. Not completely. Not his. When had he ever thought like that? He used to think that not being jealous was one of his better qualities. Had he ever wanted to have someone all to himself? Only now he could not. And he could not for so many reasons. He felt anger rise, felt the unfairness. But that's not what it is about, he reminded himself. Save him. No matter what. No matter that he doesn't want you. No matter that he moved on, and you can't. Stop being selfish for once. If you can't do it for him, you can't do it for anyone.

He dried himself off and brushed the moisture off the mirror. He looked at himself, seeming so much younger without the beard and feeling so much older. One glace upward revealed that even more dye had washed off and one side of his head was now covered in shaggy-looking strands. He wanted to laugh at himself. There was just so much to laugh about.

Seth also put on the jeans and the hoodie he wore in the morning when he left the hotel, ages, a couple of hours ago. He picked up the second pre-paid phone, but it was silent, no messages, nothing.

* * *

Walking down the stairs, he could not see Dean through the glass front that led to the garden, but William leaned on a table on the far side of the room and looked out pensively. Seth walked up to him and from this perspective saw that he was watching Dean, who was sitting on a Hollywood swing outside, staring out into the garden.

"I never know if he really wants to be alone or if he just waits for someone to sit down next to him," William said quietly. "And if he wants someone, who is it," Seth said before he could stop himself. "Well, not me," he added hastily and leaned against the back of a sofa, facing William, tearing his gaze away from Dean. "He's been in a car with me all day. He's seen enough of me."

William looked at him long and hard. "Really?" he asked, but Seth did not answer. Finally, William sighed and said: "Seth, I haven't properly said thank you for what you did today. You took a huge risk. And you gave up a lot. I… wasn't sure you would."

Seth shrugged, tried to ignore the implication. "You should have seen him. I doubt anybody could have turned him down." "Anybody who cares enough about him, yes," William said pensively, "And who would take his worry seriously. Still, there was a lot on the other side of the scales. Your career, for one thing…" "Was good while it lasted," Seth shrugged again and closed his eyes to the churning in his stomach. "Not worth a life." "No regrets?" William asked. "Oh, lots," Seth smiled. "But none about today. Well. The hair, maybe."

William smiled back, but there was seriousness, sadness in his eyes. "Seth, can I ask you something, even though it is pretty personal? It's just… well, maybe you could humour an old man who has some open questions." Seth felt color rise to his cheeks and he avoided William's gaze, but smiled anyway. "Well, least I can do to say thanks for taking us in, right?"

"Thanks…" William said and Seth could tell that the older man struggled for words. "Seth… was it because of you that Dean and I never… that nothing ever happened between us?"  
Surprise hit Seth so hard that the words were out of his mouth before his brain could veto them. "What? No, man, I never cockblocked Dean." He felt color rise in his face at an alarming speed now and wished he could sink into the ground. "That came out wrong, sorry."

"It's… certainly one way of putting it," William said drily. "And somehow, it explains a lot. You were… involved, though, back in FCW?" Seth just nodded, not trusting his own tongue right now. "And pretty much all the time since, at least until Dean left WWE?" Seth nodded again.

He could remember when Dean had been put in a feud with William, and their chemistry was just oh so obvious. And Seth had stepped back. There had never been any talk about this, any agreement, and so Seth had accepted that Dean would go to William, as he so clearly wanted. And then, on the next trip home, he had talked to his ex-girlfriend again for the first time and… oh fuck. No way.

"Up to a minute ago, I was absolutely sure you… were… had… that you Dean had hooked up back then," he whispered. William shook his head. "No. Never. And not for lack of trying on my part. And I didn't think for lack of interest on his. But… maybe I'm flattering myself." He smiled sadly, self-consciously at Seth. "And afterward?" Seth had to ask, seeing Dean navigating the house as if it was his own. "No. He's a good friend, and always welcome, no matter what. But that window closed a long time ago."

Seth could still not meet William's eyes and instead looked over his shoulder, where he could see Dean's profile illuminated by the porch lights. "Yeah," he said gently. "I know how that feels."

"Do you?" William asked back, his voice full of mild confusion. Seth took a deep breath. "Dean and I… we didn't talk for… I don't even know how long before today and… when we were at the hotel, I… I tried to kiss him. He turned away. He's over… whatever it was that we had." And I just see now that I might never be.

"Seth," William started again gently. "It's been a difficult day for both of you… and while I never talked to Dean about this… I know how he looks at you. Not just tonight. But every time we had to switch on the TV on Monday night just to catch your segment. No matter how much that hurt him, the look in his eyes made it clear that it was worth it for him."

Seth averted his eyes, tried to still the rush of feelings that went through him, made him blush, his heart speed up. "I know it's none of my business… but don't you think that he maybe just can't take another round of that game you've been playing?" William continued "That hooking up in a hotel room and then not seeing you for, who knows, weeks, months, while you both are with other people is just not enough?"

Seth did not know what to say, felt his mouth go dry. "Key question, if you ask me, is: Can you offer him something else, Seth?" Seth swallowed hard, trying to meet the other man's eyes, thoughts spinning. "You know, I like you kid, I really do, and I always did" William continued, "But I… was never sure you could be really serious with someone. Really go all the way for them. But then you ditched your Wrestlemania match, your car, your career for that man out there in one day and now…" he shrugged and smiled. "But that's something only you can answer."

Seth needed to close his eyes for a second, overwhelmed by random images, sounds, scenes, that came streaming back to him. How Dean's eyes locked with his, and how Dean's hands, and only Dean's hands felt on his skin. His voice close to his ear, intoxicating, warm. Lips all over his body. Dean asleep in his arms. Tickling him to win a round in a racing game. Patching up his shoulder after a bad match.

And sneaking back to his own room in the middle of the night. Seeing him kiss someone else, just yards away. Putting the feelings away, so they would not hurt. Convincing himself that this was okay, for both of them. But still, he had to admit to himself. I probably hurt him. A lot. I never wanted that. He felt tears well up, hot and painful, but he swallowed them down as best as he could. He owed William an answer.

"Don't you… don't you think it will be too late, no matter what I say now?" Seth whispered, barely in check of his voice. William smiled warmly. "Well, I guess if we could go back in time, there might have been better moments, I admit to that. But then… you know, hindsight may be 20/20 and maybe life can really only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards."

"Forwards is looking very scary right now," Seth said, thinking about police, guns, jail. William nodded, understanding his thoughts. "Maybe. But, let me bore you with a little Buddhist philosophy, just because I can. Believe it or not, right now, there's nothing very much wrong, actually." Seth's puzzled expression made William go on. "Look at you. You are not in any acute pain, or hungry, you got a roof over your head. And out there…" he moved his head towards Dean and smiled.

"There may be regrets in the past, and maybe police, discomfort, loneliness in the future, but at this very moment…" he shrugged. "It's what you make of it." Seth nodded. The tears had subsided a little, and he took a deep breath to steel himself. "Thank you," Seth whispered. William's smile was honest, though bitter-sweet. "And, Seth, if you're scared of prison, never getting out… it might make the world of a difference if there's someone waiting. Visiting every possible chance. Writing and calling when visiting is not possible. But… you have to promise me one thing." He closed the gap between them and while his voice was still mild, there was steel in his eyes.

"Whatever you tell him out there, you need to mean it. You need to stand by that. Can you do that?" "I promise," Seth whispered back and received a pat on his cheek in return. "Best of luck, then. I'll give you some privacy," William said and left him alone. Seth opened the glass door, and noticed just how badly his hands were shaking.

* * *

Dean had sat down right at the corner of the Hollywood swing, one leg up on the seat, the other pushing the swing in a mindless, gentle motion. He had wrapped himself into his old leather jacket again. Seth wondered if Dean had ever seemed so young to him, in all the years they had grown up next to each other. Seth felt his heart almost tearing out of his chest, and he knew he had only a couple of steps until he would be close enough to speak. He needed to find words. The right ones. But his head felt empty and too crowded at the same time.

"Hey. What were you talking about?" Dean suddenly said, gaze still turned upwards into the trees. Seth had not been sure that he had even noticed him coming. "Heard that you were talking, but couldn't make out the words." Seth slid next to him on the swing and tried to open his mouth, but nothing came. But he could not just turn that face towards him, bury his fingers in the dark hair… "Buddhist philosophy," Seth heard himself say and cursed inwardly. "And… and if I was the reason why you and William didn't hook up in FCW." It was a start. He needed to start somewhere. And it got a reaction out of Dean.

Dean turned his head towards Seth for a moment. Seth could see the briefest flashes of blue in the patio lights. "Really?" he asked, and turned away again. "So, what did you tell him?" "That I didn't think so," Seth answered quietly. Dean seemed to consider this for a few seconds. "Well, not true," he finally said, eyes averted. "We were… pretty new back then, remember? And I didn't… didn't know where we were going. If you were… if you wanted us to be exclusive. I don't know. Thought it better to pass. I was wrong there, I know, but…"

Guilt washed through Seth like a tidal wave. You were just waiting for me. And I just accepted what I though I saw. I never even asked you. He opened his mouth to say something to make it better, take away the pain in Dean's voice, and he started on "I'm so sorry." But when Dean turned to look at him again, he knew he would not find the words, could only say it with his body, his hands and his lips. His fingers ran over Dean's cheeks almost on their own accord, curled into his hair and all of his body tried to close the distance at once when Dean turned and slipped off the swing.

Seth remained frozen in place. Oh God, I just did it again, he thought. He watched Dean walk away from him towards the trees, but then the other man stopped. Seth could see Dean put his hands up and pull at his hair and Seth took heart, got up and walked towards him, but stopped at some distance, giving him space.

Dean turned around slowly, but Seth could only see a glimmer in Dean's eyes in the dark. When Dean spoke, his voice was raw with emotion. "It's not that I don't want you, Seth. It's never that I don't want you." Seth noticed he had forgotten how to breathe, pain and tenderness fighting in his chest. "But I can't, Seth. I can't drag you any deeper into this again."

It hit him badly. Seth had to make himself take a deep breath, steady himself. One more try. Do it right this time. "I'm sorry," he said, lining the words up in his mind, trying to give them structure, meaning, through the deafening roar of his emotions. "I'm sorry you think you can drag me any deeper into this. That I acted in a way that makes you think that."

Dean's eyes were bright, uncomprehending, and Seth went on, trying to work out what he wanted to say while he said it. "I'm sorry I just assumed you had hooked up with William, I'm sorry I never asked and I'm sorry about what I did afterwards. I'm sorry…" "Seth," Dean interjected hoarsely. "Stop. You never promised me anything you didn't keep."

Seth found himself almost laughing. "Yes, but that's because I never promised you anything at all, and I should have. Damn, I should have. Should have told you when you had to leave WWE. Should have told you when I got injured. Or when we couldn't room together anymore when the Shield broke up. Or when we had been called up for sure… I should have told you after our first night in my old apartment in Tampa."

"And I know I've been unbelievably, incredibly stupid about this, and I don't know if I can ever do enough to make up for that, well, maybe what happened today is a start…" he was rambling, afraid the words would fail him if he stopped, afraid his throat would close over them. But then, he found the words, and he didn't understand why they had ever felt difficult before.

"I love you, Dean. Loved you from the day you walked into that warehouse. Loved you every day since. There's no dragging me deeper into anything. That's just not possible. It was too late for that by the time you first locked hands with me in the ring. And… and I'll be yours if you'll still have me."

Seth looked at Dean's face, tried to read any reaction in the dark. His pulse raced and skipped as if he had run a mile and time seemed to stretch on, when suddenly Dean moved. Before Seth could catch his breath, he felt Dean's body hit his with enough force to almost knock him over, then warm hands on his back, first steadying him, then drawing him in.

Dean's lips collided with his and it took Seth a moment to adjust, move in time with him. But in a flash, it all came back to him, so electric, so familiar, so easy, and his arms slipped under Dean's jacket, caressing his warm skin. He tried to close in even more, pushed to feel Dean all over his body while kissing him back with all he could give. He tried to say it all again with his body, pressing 'I love you' into Dean's skin with his lips and his fingertips.

They finally broke the kiss and Seth opened his eyes to see Dean's shining in the dark. He kept placing tiny, soft kisses on Seth's lips before burying his face in the crook of Seth's neck.

"I missed you," Seth heard him whisper into his skin. "Fuck, I missed you so much…" Seth felt like drawing breath again after being under water for an eternity. The next moment, Dean's hand slipped under his shirt and Dean's lips started to trail down his neck, hot and eager and when he felt teeth against his skin, Seth could not hold back a loud moan and a shudder. One of Dean's arms held him in place, and with the other thumb, he slid under the waistband of Seth's jeans, teasing along his hip dent and Seth's legs went weak.

He knew there was no one else who could to that, mess him up like that in five seconds or less. He moved his hands down Dean's pants in response, grabbing his ass through the fabric, finding something to hold on to and keep Dean in place while he grinded into him, needing the friction, needing to feel that Dean was as hard as he was…

Suddenly Dean pulled away, panting, eyes wide. "Seth… can we do that? What… What if the police arrive right now?" Seth looked back, confused, but then asked back: "Well, what if they don't?"

Dean blinked. "I mean it," Seth said, breath still coming quickly. "Maybe they'll come. Who knows. We can't run from here. But maybe they won't come, or at least not yet. And…" he tried to remember what William had said. "And I don't know what will be, but… I don't want to look back at tonight and think we wasted another chance. Right now, we're safe. We're together… right now I couldn't want more."

He kissed Dean's lips softly, running his tongue lightly between his lips, bathing in the electricity of the touch. Dean answered with a soft moan that made Seth feel lightheaded and then he pulled Seth close again, deepened the kiss. "Bedroom," Dean whispered softly as Seth tried to sneak his fingers down Dean's pants.

How they made it up the spiral staircase, Seth would never know – he could not stop claiming Dean's lips, dragging his hands over his body, and Dean pulling him close, almost carrying him up the steps. When they reached the door, Dean let go of Seth for a second. "Did you leave the light on?" he asked, and Seth shook his head. Seth went into the room first, calling "William?" but there was no-one there. Just the lamp on the night stand had been switched on, illuminating a box of condoms and a bottle of lube that had definitely not been there before. And little note with Seth's name on it.

Seth read it and put it in the pocket of his jeans before Dean could see. "Excellent room service," Seth quipped, but thanked William mentally; not only for the presents but mostly that he had trusted Seth to do this. To make things right with Dean. He looked up and Dean smiled fondly as he closed the door behind them. He let his jacket fall to the floor, then he drew Seth into another deep kiss and started to remove Seth's shirt and hoodie.

"Fuck, you're so damn beautiful," Dean whispered and Seth saw the same lust in Dean's eyes that he had glimpsed in the hotel room. He whimpered as Dean started kissing down his naked torso, threw his head back when Dean's thumbs started stroking his hips again. He couldn't keep standing, pushed their bags off the bed without moving from Dean's mouth on him. Before he could sit down, Dean stopped him and tore down his jeans and underwear in one swift movement. Dean's gaze felt like fire on his skin and when Dean looked up, he felt dizzy from the desire in Dean's eyes.

Dean went in for kill, pushed Seth down and put his lips on his hips while Seth's hands flew back into Dean's hair. Seth let himself fall into the pleasure of having this special spot licked, sucked, bitten until there would be marks in the morning, his throbbing cock straining, ignored.

"Do you want me to touch you?" Dean's voice asked between bites. "You'll have to tell me…" Seth gasped again and whispered: "Touch me, please, I need you…" A hand closed slow and steady around his shaft and he watched as Dean let the tip of his dick run over his lips, smearing them with his pre-cum. He wondered if he had anything more glorious in his life when Dean opened his mouth slowly and let Seth glide in. It was almost too much, the almost devout look in Dean's eyes and the sensation of Dean's tongue on his most sensitive place. And Dean knew, read him like an open book. He stopped after a few more licks and let himself be pulled up into another kiss.

Seth tasted himself, Dean, both of them together. He let himself fall back, pulling Dean on top of him. "What do you want, baby?" he asked "I'll do whatever you like…" Dean's breath hitched, but he answered immediately. "Ride me. Oh please, I missed that so much…."

Seth went slowly with Dean's cloths, trying not to strain the injured shoulder, distracting him with kisses and sweet whispers. He took his time to take in Dean's naked body, played with the scars he knew so well, let his hands roam the silhouette, feeling the changes and the familiarities. His fingers brushed the coarse hair around Dean's shaft and he found he didn't want the condom, wanted to feel Dean skin on skin, prove that he would be the only one for him.

Dean saw Seth's hand hover over the box. "Use one, please…" he said. "I wasn't… I haven't… I don't want you…" Seth silenced him with a kiss. "Okay. Something to look forward to later, then." With one hand, Dean pulled the hair-tie out of Seth's hair and put it on his wrist. Then he leaned back and watched while Seth pulled the condom on his cock and lubed him up. "I pictured this," Dean whispered in between moans. "I pictured this, when I was alone and missed you, how you feel on top of me…" Seth looked at him and a soft, nervous smile played on his lips. "I hope I won't let you down…" "Never." "Don't say that…" Seth got himself positioned over Dean, lined himself up… "Haven't done that in, hm, 18 months or something?" Seth said and looked square into Dean's eyes. "Haven't let anyone inside me at all, as a matter of fact." He lowered himself just a little and enjoyed how Dean's eyes widened. "Just knew it wouldn't compare to this," he whispered and slowly let himself slide all the way down.

It was a lot at once, and Seth could feel muscles complain and ache, but it was a small note compared to the wonderful feeling of being one with Dean again, being full, meeting his limits. Dean jerked under him, and Seth smiled as he tried to curse and apologize at the same time.  
Seth took it slow, easy, getting himself back into the groove, guiding Dean's hands to his hips but setting the pace, the rhythm himself.

His muscles remembered, everything in his body seemed to remember this and soon he rode Dean as hard as he could while Dean clawed his nails into Seth's ass and whispered all the filth that he knew would work on him. "Closer, I need you closer," he moaned and Seth let himself drop on top of him, buried his face in Dean's neck, then kissed his way to Dean's ear while Dean took the reigns, thrusting into him without allowing a moment's relief.

Then he flipped them, and Seth felt Dean's weight on top of him, loved the way he was pressed into the cushions. He shifted to give Dean all he could, threw his head back and let Dean take him all the way. "Fuck, you're so pretty when you're close" Dean whispered and ran his thumb over Seth's lip. Seth licked over Dean's finger instantly, instinctively drew it in his mouth and opened his eyes when he heard Dean hiss with sensory overload. Dean's movements got erratic and Seth locked his eyes on Dean's face, he could not miss a second of it.

Instead, he suddenly saw a flicker in Dean's eyes that he could not understand, and Dean pulled his fingers away and leaned towards Seth's ear. "Tell me again," he whispered, his voice suddenly weak, trembling, urgent. "Please, tell me again..." Seth pulled Dean's head back gently and made sure Dean's eyes were on him.

"I love you," he said again, and he felt as if he had said it with his whole body and soul. He watched Dean's orgasm hit him hard, but he still tried to keep their eyes locked, and he knew this would push him over the edge. He let the wave rush over him, pushing into Dean for more contact, marking his shoulder blades with his fingernails.

Afterwards, Dean slid out but stayed next to Seth, stroking his hair. Seth looked up at the blue seas behind Dean's eyes and couldn't remember when he had ever been this happy, in spite of everything. If you keep looking at me like that, Seth thought, I don't care if you never say it back. You don't need to.

Finally, Dean kissed him softly and went to get a washcloth – by the time he was back, Seth had almost fallen asleep. "You're unbelievable, you know that, right?" Dean smiled. "Sorry…" Seth muttered. "Just half an hour, you can wake me…" Dean cuddled up behind him. "Okay. But I will, you know? You're right, I want to use the time we have…" "We have all the time in the world…" Seth locked his fingers into Dean's. "But wake me up anyway." "Will do," Dean said and Seth felt him relax against his back, his free hand stroking his hair.

Seth had fallen asleep, but not deeply, when he heard Dean's voice whisper on the outer edge of his consciousness, bringing him slowly back to the surface. "…I'm sorry, I can't, but I will. I will. But, until then let me tell you something else instead… I didn't come for your car this morning. Not… not at the beginning." Seth tried to keep his muscles from showing any response, not give him away. Dean sighed and softly continued.

"I saw her in my bed, and… and I thought I would not live to see the sun set. I really thought – that's it. They'll lock me up and I'll die. And… you know, the thing they say about dying?" Seth thought his heart had stopped, and Dean must know he was awake just from feeling it in his chest. Dean drew a deep breath and let it out again, tickling Seth's ear.

"They say when you know you are dying there are… stages you go through. But I wasn't angry. Or in denial, or depressed or something. I… went straight to bargaining. I was just… I couldn't believe I would not see you again. I had waited to see you, I don't know for how long… and then I thought: Okay. If this is it, okay. I'll go with the cops, but only… only when I saw you. Just once. From a distance, if necessary, if you are with others… I knew you must be close by, and so I just ran all the way to your hotel… and there was your car and the fucking miracle that I actually got you alone… and I started hoping again, at least a little bit… and then the rest happened. But that's… that's how it started. Because that's… that's how I feel about you. How important you are to me. And… I needed you to know that…"

Seth answered by squeezing Dean's hand, but he could not turn around, let Dean see the tears in his eyes while Dean hugged him even closer. With everything against them in the world, he had never felt better.

 **So... yeah :) I hope you enjoyed this!**

 **Wanna guess what William wrote in that note?**

 **References: "Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards" is a quote by Søren Kierkegaard  
"The thing they say about dying" is the "Five Stages of Grief" model by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. **


	17. Chapter 17

Morning came much too soon for Roman and Daniel, as they both had only just fallen asleep. Daniel felt all the aches he had collected during his professional career and his children were restless, picking up on the tension of the adults.

No-one felt like saying much during breakfast, which they ate in their rooms, or during workout in the hotel gym. Their suspicion that they were shunned on purpose was confirmed when Neville approached them, his face worried, hands playing with his water bottle.

"I'm sorry; they sent me over to tell you that you'll have to get ready in another part of the arena. We agreed that… you're not welcome in the main locker rooms for now…" There was nothing to do except nod. "Okay Neville, thanks for telling us," Daniel managed. Neville shrugged helplessly, apparently stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"And we're officially in the doghouse," Daniel sighed when he was alone again with Roman. "Can't even remember when that happened the last time. Or what I did…" "Happened only once to me," Roman commented. "Shield days. Something Dean had said. Or was it Seth? Can't remember either…"

They both had received a text from Brock Lesnar, telling them he had booked a training ring in the bowels of the arena and that he would expect them immediately after the briefing. They checked the timetable and found the heels would roll out first, leaving Daniel more time to play with his children and wonder how he had gotten himself into this situation.

He could understand his colleagues, could see the way they felt doubly betrayed – first by Seth, now by them. They had been clumsy, maybe made a difficult time more difficult. But reviewing his decisions, he still felt he had been right – but he also wondered about this. About the shift in priorities. Away from his colleagues, from WWE.

At one point, he had not expected that this would ever happen. He remembered everything he had done just to get back into wrestling, back on the main roster, and noticed how it now felt different – less important than it had once done. Maybe being a father put things in perspective. Maybe having a family, being fully happy, made him more attuned to Dean, his old friend who still had no-one to hold on to. Still, they had meddled in Lana's affairs badly, and she had done nothing to deserve this.

He picked his son up to cuddle him, but he was too fussy, wanted to run after his sister, who tried to grab one of her mother's earrings. "You need to go," Brie told him.

"You're going later?" Daniel asked. She nodded. "They are too tense right now. I don't want them out in all that mayhem yet. You won't be on until much later anyway. I'll get there after the pre-show starts."

At the back door, Daniel realized that Brie had been right. Reporters were swarming him again on the way to his rental car, shouting, taking pictures. Daniel ignored them as politely as he could, but almost stopped when he heard a man shout: "Did you know that they updated Dean Ambrose's status from person of interest to suspect? Can you tell us anything about that?" Daniel clenched his teeth and battled his way through the throng. So the police were not going in another direction. They were looking for Dean, first and foremost.

Arriving at the arena, it took Daniel ages to even find the tiny room that was assigned to him and Roman. They were so far away from everyone else that they did not even bother to keep the usual distance between two opponents who were supposed to be mortal enemies.

* * *

When he finally found the place, Roman looked harassed. "They took my phone," he said immediately after Daniel had come it. Before Daniel could form a question, Roman continued: "Police intercepted me right when I entered – was brought to the detective – he had a warrant for my phone. And Dean is now officially a suspect. I asked the detective, he said it was just a matter of getting manpower for his search, that nothing changes, but…"

"Why did they want your phone?" Daniel asked, but he knew the answer. Because he had screwed up yesterday. Because they knew something was up. Probably his connection to the others was just too tentative to justify a warrant for his phone. "He didn't say," Roman answered, "And I tried to fight him about it, told him he's been screening my stuff anyway, but… what can I do against a warrant?"

Roman started pacing the tiny room and Daniel suddenly understood. He glanced over to see that the door was firmly closed, and said: "Their number. Did you save it anywhere else?" Roman shook his head. "I fucking stared at it half of the night, but now I can't even remember the first four digits. Fuck!" He hit the wall with both fists and made something metallic rattle. "It will come back to you when you stop trying so hard to remember it," Daniel said without much optimism. "Not like we have a lot to tell them right now." "They spotted Dean at some gas station," Roman said. "The detective told me 'this will be over soon'." Daniel felt the hair on his arms rise. "Apparently, he also bought a bottle of cheap vodka…" Roman let the implication stand.

"Can you do the briefing?" Daniel asked Roman, and the Samoan nodded. "Can't imagine this gets any better if we isolate ourselves more."

This time, they did not even try sitting down and leaned against a wall instead. Daniel felt Hunter's words of encouragement and motivation wash over him without making an impression. He felt tired. Tired of everything. Roman next to him looked like a stone statue.

"Last minute changes!" Hunter announced. "Brock, Daniel, Roman. You go on first. Directly after the pre-show. Give them something spectacular right at the start, no waiting." _More like: Get the drama over with,_ Daniel thought.

"The faster I can be out of here, the better," Daniel heard Brock say to Paul. Then he noticed Daniel and pointed at his wrist. _We don't have much time. I know_. He nodded back. The rest of Hunter's announcement drowned in his dark thoughts.

They went to the ring Brock had booked them and started on the moves that would include Daniel as soon as a medic became available. It turned out to be just as frustrating as the day before. They tried several scenarios to eject Daniel from the ring in the early stages of the match, but either it did not look good, was something they had already planned to do later or the medic would not sign off on even trying.

Daniel could feel his temper flare, and everybody else was getting impatient, too. Brock used the delay to re-schedule his flight. He obviously could not wait to be out of this mess. Finally, they agreed on Brock spearing Daniel to get him out of the ring. The medic was still unhappy, but had to admit to Daniel's logic that he had taken Roman's spears for months and was still alive.

Brock went ahead, and it took all of Daniel's acting ability not to make the doctor see just how hard he had landed. Roman was not fooled, though, and immediately pulled him aside. "What was that?" he asked heatedly. "Nothing," Daniel replied. "Just got too used to do it your way. I will be fine." Roman just glared. They tried it again and Daniel knew that he would not be able to take a third one for now. It would just have to work when they were on stage. And at least he would have a few minutes to recover then.

"Okay like that?" he called to the road agent. She frowned, shrugged and said: "Will have to do, I guess."

Daniel knew that in the past, he would not have been happy with that. Not having 100% for the fans. But this time, he felt like it was all out of his hands, anyway. "That was all, right?" Daniel asked and tried to keep hope from his voice. "Not quite…" the road manager answered after checking her list. "The doc and I want to see how you fight out of that F5, Daniel."

"Sure!" Daniel started to see stars at the edge of his vision, but complied. He let Brock hoist him up, but immediately felt himself slip, and he started to grab at Brock's shoulders blindly and finally fell off more than he fought. "Again!" The road agent almost threw her pen in despair. "That looked awful! More fighting, less flailing! And Roman, I want to see you do the superman punch right afterwards, see if the whole sequence works."

Daniel's hands felt strangely tacky, but the second time around the move worked. Brock rolled out of the ring and almost immediately pulled on his hoodie. "Good job. See you at show time," he called. Paul Heyman, the road agent and the doc nodded and left them in the ring. Only when Daniel had collected himself, he saw that Roman was still kneeling where he had landed after his punch and now Daniel could see that his friend's whole body was shaking. "Did you see that?" Roman whispered, eyes wild. "What? No!" Daniel tried to follow Roman's gaze, but only saw Brock's retreating back.

"There were markings on his neck. I'm sure of it. I didn't see them at first, but when I just did that punch – Daniel, I'm sure they were there!" And as Daniel raised his hands to calm Roman down, he could clearly see the make-up traces all over his fingers.

* * *

Daniel dragged Roman physically back to their room. "Roman, are you sure? Absolutely sure?" He asked as soon as he closed the door, but he knew Roman's answer before the other man opened his mouth. "There were teeth marks. And look at your hands!" Daniel nodded while getting a towel to wipe them down. "We need to tell the police," Roman said.

"We need to be very, very sure first" Daniel answered. "We are not getting away with another accusation if it is not bulletproof. He could have had some fun with a groupie last night."

"Paul gave him an alibi," Roman suddenly remembered. "Told the police they were in his room. I don't think they asked him if they could run the DNA test."

"Damn… that would mean Paul is in on the whole thing. Protecting him. That's bad…" Daniel ran his hand through his hair, thinking. Their logic would have to be perfect. "What else do we know…" Daniel wondered. After a few seconds it came to him. "Sushi! They said she had eaten sushi some time during her stay with the client, right?" Roman nodded. "Yes, I think they said it. Saw last night that our hotel has a special offer on sushi…" Daniel almost jumped up and down now.

"If Brock ordered room service to his own room, that shows they were lying. That they were not in Paul's room." He took out his phone. The reception was bad, but finally he got a ring-back tone and Brie answered after the third ring. "I put you on speakerphone, Roman is with me," Daniel told her. "Are you still at the hotel?" "Yes, what's going on?"

"Love, I need you to go down to the front desk and find out if Brock Lesnar ordered sushi to his room around noon on Friday." Brie needed a moment to digest this information. "Noon on Friday. Like, what you told me about the autopsy report? You are thinking she was with Brock!" "I just accidentally wiped some make-up off his neck when we went over the routine," Daniel confirmed. "Roman is sure he saw puncture wounds. But we need more. Can you make something up and ask?" Brie inhaled sharply. "Oh my God. But, okay. I'll try. Call you back as soon as I found something."

They sat on pins and needles until finally, finally, Daniel's phone rang again. Brie sounded out of breath. "Okay, this happened," she started. "I told the concierge something that this friend of mine had ordered sushi for both of us on Friday and I wanted to pay him back at least half and if he could look up the price. And he did, told me a number, so you were right. He ordered sushi to his room. But then… then the guy asked me if I could send on the staff's apology that it took them so long to change his sheets yesterday and that they all hope he is happy now."

"What?" Roman and Daniel asked in unison. "He figured I didn't know what he was talking about, so get this: Last night, Brock ordered tomato soup to his room and apparently spilled it all over his sheets, his pillows, _everything_. They had to re-do the whole bed. Dan, I'm sure Brock was within earshot when the detective grilled Hunter about swiping his bed for DNA. That's not an accident. He destroyed evidence. What on earth are we going to do now?" Both men looked at each other, speechless.

"We need to talk to the police. Thank you, Brie. You got us a lot more than we expected," Daniel said. "Does he know?" Brie asked anxiously. "Because you can't do the match if he knows." "I don't think he figured it out," Daniel said soothingly. "We'll talk to the police. Brock will be taken out of our match, Ro and I do what we practiced all along. Don't worry." "I'll watch him, Brie," Roman added. "I take your word for it, Roman…" Brie said slowly. "Good luck. I'll see you later." They hung up.

"Okay, no more doubts," Roman said. Daniel nodded. "That's just too much to be coincidence. And Brock wants to get out of here as soon as our match is over. He's scared the police might be getting close. We can't have that. If he's out of state…" "And I can't fight him," Roman said. "I might just accidentally make a couple of those punches connect." "Let's do this, then," Daniel said, "Not much time now. I think the pre-show already started."

They found a policeman in uniform almost as soon as they stepped out of the room and Daniel felt his heart sink even though he could not say why. "Officer," he addressed the young man. "We need to speak to Detective Moore. Immediately. It's important." The cop raised an eyebrow in imitation of his boss. "Is it, now? You know, you might not remember me, but I was in that room last night. You have been a thorn in the detective's side since we started this investigation and he was very clear that he did not want to see you again. Okay, humor me, what is so important? Maybe I'll pass it on to the detective in due time. Depending." He smiled at them with a lazy superiority that made Daniel ball his hands to fists unconsciously.

"We saw a bite mark on the neck of one of our co-workers. He had tried to cover it, but I accidentally wiped of the make-up when we were practicing," Daniel started. "We also know that he had his bedding changes after he heard that you are doing DNA swipes. He must be the client, must be."

Suddenly, Daniel heard his name shouted deafeningly through the hallway. Hunter appeared next to them, two more policemen in tow. "What are you doing?" Hunter asked in a strained voice. "You're not in a cell right now because I vouched for you. Now I see you talking to police again. Get back to your dressing room. Now."

"Hunter, we know who did it," Roman said, more calmly than Daniel could have managed right now. "Seen the bite mark. Know he destroyed evidence." Hunter's face got close to purple. "Ah, the ominous bite mark we are not even supposed to know about. You think that's going to impress anyone? That you saw something, you of all people, who have all the motive in the world to frame someone else to protect Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins."

 _This isn't happening,_ Daniel thought. _This can't be happening._ "I'm not framing anyone," Roman growled, but Hunter put his hand up. "Roman, shut up. I don't want to know. You won't split up my roster more than you already have. No more suspicions. This was no-one we know, no matter what you think you saw. I'm sure these gentlemen are just as tired of your fantasies as I am. You are here to do your match, nothing else. And I'll make sure that's what you'll do. And don't delude yourselves, there will be a reckoning afterwards. But you are not going to ruin my show!"

Hunter turned to the police. The two men moved forwards, and Daniel was horrified to realize that they had their hands on their weapons. "You know you are not supposed to get in the way anymore," one of them said, and the tense edge in his voice made Daniel feel fear rise in his whole body. "Please go to the dressing room, or we will have to make you do it…"

"You can't do that," Daniel whispered. "Wanna try? We've been warned about you. That you would probably resort to all kinds of tricks, maybe even violence, to interfere with this investigation." As the policeman stepped forward, Daniel stepped back, dragging Roman along, feeling ice water running down his back. He had never thought he'd get into conflict with the police like that. That they would mistrust him so much. Roman looked as if he wanted to say something, maybe scream Brock's name at them until they got it, but Daniel's glance made him keep his peace. Daniel was genuinely scared now, unable to assess what the cops were willing to do and what was Hunter's part in all of this. The last thing Daniel and Roman saw through the closing door of the dressing room was Hunter taking out his wallet.

"He bribed them," Daniel whispered. "He fucking bribed them." Then he heard a key click. They were locked in.

He was almost ready to catch Roman's arms, keep him from going berserk, shatter everything in sight, but Roman just sat calmly on the bench.

"You should have let me say it is Brock who did it," Roman said. Daniel shook his head emphatically. "No. Word would get to him, and I think they'll force us to have that match at all costs. Too dangerous if he knows we know. And then there's Hunter. He's not on our side anymore." "He's getting away with it, right?" Roman said quietly. "Brock will get on the plane, disappear for long enough to have that mark heal, and then there's nothing anyone can do. The sheets are gone, and Paul's going to give him any alibi he needs. And that… that leaves Dean as the only suspect."

"No," Daniel said against his own hopelessness. "It can't end that way." He leaned against the wall opposite of Roman, collecting his thoughts. He still expected Roman to burst into tears, or start screaming, punching things. It didn't happen, and it was scary. Daniel wondered if Roman had given up. Roman, of all people. Roman, on something that concerned his brothers.

"We need a plan," Roman finally said, and Daniel felt a little hope again, even though he could not see it. "A good one. And I need you to think this through with me." Roman continued. "Do you still have your phone?" Daniel looked around, but it was still on the bench where he had put it when talking to Brie. "Over there." "Okay, that's one thing we have." "You think we should make it public? Put it on the internet, so everyone knows?" Daniel asked. Roman considered this for a moment, and when he looked up at Daniel, there was a bright, passionate determination in Roman's eyes. It seemed just one blink away from madness and made Daniel shudder involuntarily. "No way to prove it. Our words against theirs. And I think… I think we might have a better platform anyway."

* * *

They planned and prepared, and when there was nothing else to do, they sat back down on the bench, waiting for the key to click in the lock. "You sure they will come?" Roman asked softly. Daniel just nodded.

Roman looked calm now again, sad, pensive, scared. Daniel found he missed the mad anger he had glimpsed earlier. But he also knew this was just the calm before the storm. "You think it will work?" Roman asked. "Honestly? No idea." Roman nodded at that. It took a while until he continued: "Daniel, you don't have to help me. You can stop here, get out. I've done nothing to deserve all you're doing here for me."

Daniel contemplated this until he finally said. "You can't do this alone. And… you answered the phone." Roman blinked. "What?" Daniel gave Roman a lopsided smile.

"When I was home alone with Cait and Donny for the first time, and after midnight, and Cait started screaming and would not stop… and turned warmer and warmer… and I panicked, could not reach anyone, not Brie, not the grandmas… And then I called you, because you always had the best advice about being a dad, and you answered, even though it was the middle of the night, remember?"

"Dan, I just slurred that you should calm yourself down and get her to the ER… I didn't really help," Roman said and almost smiled. "You did," Daniel whispered. "You set my head straight, were there when I really needed someone." He paused. "And that's not all you did, anyway. You texted me, told me not to drive myself, worried like I was… kept asking for updates, you can't have slept that night either until I told you the verdict…" Roman looked almost embarrassed. "Ear infection, right? Yeah. But I remember how terrifying the whole parenting thing was the first time round, and I only had one at once… But you did that all yourself. I was on the other side of the country. Seriously, I couldn't really help." Before Daniel could disagree, Roman added: "And you answered the phone in the middle of the night for me, too, even though you had all reasons to hate me at that point."

Daniel smiled softly. "You mean Fastlane '15?" Roman nodded. "Not only do you have to lose to the new guy even though you are way more over, he also calls you at, what, three a.m. because he forgot the opening sequence and has a full blown panic attack that he'll never make it on his own. Whines he will always be remembered as the weak one of the Shield, that you should be the one to win and make everyone happy…" Daniel rolled his eyes, but kept smiling.

"And I could not help you there, either. In the end, you had to do all this by yourself, too." "You remember what you told me?" Roman asked. "Not really," Daniel had to admit. "I think it included "Go back to sleep…"" Roman did not meet his eyes. "Yes, it did. But also, that even if the worst happens, even if I go completely blank, you'd be there with me in the ring and help me through."

"So, same thing applies now," Daniel said quietly. Roman swallowed hard, looked at Daniel. "Thank you," he whispered almost inaudibly. "I'm so lucky to have you as my friend."

Before Daniel could reply, the key clicked in the lock.

 **Kudos to Cheery on AO3, who called this back after chapter 12 or something ;)**

 **So, everybody ready for the showdown?**


	18. Chapter 18

**Around the time I originally wrote this, I gave in and confessed to my law-student friend (who is very much *not* into this stuff) that I wrote a story based on that one conversation we had. When she had stopped laughing, she helped me figure out some of the legal details for the rest of the story. So, everything that makes sense is hers, the rest is mine ;)**

 **Paragraphs in italics are mini-flashbacks to stuff that happened parallel to chapter 17 or between chapter 17 and 18. Horizontal lines indicate switches between both locations. I hope it is pretty self-explanatory.**

 **Warnings for mention of trauma and dissociation. Also blood.**

It was past noon when Seth made his way down the stairs, tired, happy, worried, sore, all at the same time. Dean was following a few steps behind him, trying to put on his hoodie while walking down the stairs.

Seth saw the thin man in the wire-rimmed glasses at the table first, and backed into Dean so hard the other man almost fell. He had automatically made himself as big as possible, hiding Dean behind him. The man in the glasses gave him a confused little smile.

"Seth, Dean! Good morning!" Only now Seth saw William coming from the kitchen with what looked and smelled like pancakes. "I think that's a reaction you don't get every day, Xander." "Indeed not," the other man said drily. William waved at Seth and Dean to come down. Seth felt Dean squeeze his hand softly – he had not even noticed when he had grabbed it.

"Seth Rollins, Dean Ambrose," William continued the introduction. "Alexander Telford. I thought sooner or later someone would have to do something reasonable, so I called in my lawyer and friend Alexander. Don't worry. I already told him the basic facts, as far as I understood them."

"But it's a Sunday," Dean mumbled and dropped into a chair opposite of the man, dragging Seth along, not letting go of his hand. "That," William explained, "Is a matter of payment." "Pancakes help, too." Alexander said with the faintest smile.

As soon as they both had sat down, William put pancakes on their plates. "I take it you had a good night?" he said with a wink. Seth smiled in answer, and leaned a little more into Dean next to him. It had been a good night, and a strange night. There had been little sleep. It had been scary for a minute when Dean had suddenly started shaking him in the early hours of the morning, yelling at him to breathe, not being fully awake himself. There was no need to guess what the nightmare had been about. As soon as he could, Seth had taken Dean into his arms, cradled him against his chest. Let him hear his heartbeat, feel the air flowing in and out of his body. He stroked Dean's sweaty hair until he was breathing calmly again, and Seth wondered if Dean would even remember this in the morning. He didn't ask, though.

William walked around them and inspected Dean's neck. "So you read my note," he smiled at Seth. Dean shot Seth a confused look. "'Don't you dare bite his neck'," Seth explained. "Important advice, if somewhat unromantic, I thought," William said. Dean nodded softly.

As soon as Dean and Seth had the first coffee and some pancakes, Alexander started asking questions and taking notes on a little pad. He tried to keep it light, Seth noticed, and he and Dean tried to answer his questions as well as they could. Still, he soon felt Dean's hand on his leg, looking for something to hold on to. _We can't stay in this little bubble forever,_ Seth thought. Dean needed him close now, and Seth felt wrong every time they were not actually touching. He moved his chair so that his leg would touch Dean's and entwined their fingers.

"Just to make sure, Dean, you never actually saw a policeman, right?" "I saw one at that roadside café…" Dean replied but Alexander waved that away. "Yesterday morning, no, I was gone when they arrived. Didn't take their calls." "So you were not actually arrested, and you certainly did not resist arrest. You left a crime scene, which is, in itself, not a crime... You didn't perform CPR, by any chance?" Seth could feel Dean swallow. "No… I touched her, shook her… she was so obviously dead, cold, I…" Alexander nodded sympathetically and Seth drew his arm around him. "I'm sorry I have to ask this," Alexander said. "It's necessary," William answered for them after he sat down at the table again and re-filled their coffee cups.

Meanwhile, Alexander had checked his phone. Seth could see from his face that the news were not good. "Dean has been upgraded from person of interest to suspect, the professional grapevine tells me," he announced. Seth squeezed Dean's hand under the table until a soft "ouch" from Dean stopped him. "That's not as bad as it might sound," Alexander continued, "But it might force our hand a little more. And might mean a higher level of effort to find you."

"Dean, that's highly personal, but do you have any history of mental disorder?" Alexander went on and Dean snorted. "You know what they called me in WWE?" he asked. The lawyer seemed embarrassed. "I'm sorry; I don't really follow this closely…" "It's okay," Dean said. "I was labeled 'unstable', 'lunatic', whatever that means. But everybody thinks I'm crazy anyway." "Is there any documented diagnosis?" Alexander pressed on. "No," Dean said. "Haven't seen a therapist since I was a teenager. I thought after starting to wrestle I would never need one again…"

 _But then that was suddenly taken from you._ Seth felt a tug at his heartstrings and let his fingers caress Dean's hand.

Alexander shrugged, obviously unhappy with that answer. "I still think going down the psych-road might be a possibility. It's not implausible, as such. You experienced a traumatic event – it's not hard to imagine that this caused some kind of acute stress reaction, dissociation, I don't know. Still, that would put us in a bit of a time crunch as well. Running from the place where you found a dead body – pretty easy to explain. Why you're still not talking to the police more than 24h later – less easy. I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound callous."

"And isn't the stuff we did in the meantime a problem?" Dean asked. "I mean, we changed our appearance, found another car, got ourselves here… it looks pretty planned out. Sure, it was all spur-of-the–moment, but would I be able to do that if I were really so stressed out?"

"My idea, all of it," Seth said calmly. "I just dragged you along." "No way in hell," Dean answered immediately. "That's not how we are going to do this." Seth felt Dean's hand on his chin, turning his face towards him. The familiar blue gaze on him made his heart skip. "Can't let you sacrifice yourself for me," he whispered and leaned in for a kiss. Seth felt acutely aware of William and Alexander on the other side of the table, but met Dean anyway. _No more secrets,_ he thought as his lips touched Dean's, his eyes fluttering close.

When he opened them again, he found William and Alexander politely turned towards each other, smiles on their lips. "Dean, we don't need to decide now," Alexander picked up the thread again. "But we should take a look at every option. You will need to hire your own lawyers sooner or later – this is not exactly my specialty. I can only give you general advice. But…" he contemplated for a second how to go on. "Well, it's pretty clear that you care deeply about each other. You are not, by any chance, engaged to be married?"

Seth's "Er, no?" was lost under Dean's "Would that help?" Alexander moved his head from side to side. "There might be things you would still have to disclose because they happened before the engagement, but generally speaking, yes, especially for Seth. Maybe not even strictly in a legal sense, but overall, people might find some more sympathy for things that were done to protect a spouse. You would not be forced to testify against each other. But of course, I see that this is a very private dec…"

Dean took both of Seth's hand in his own, gently turned his body around to face him and looked straight into Seth's eyes. "Marry me," he said, quietly, seriously. Seth felt how the words hit his heart like a sledgehammer, "Really?" he whispered back, not sure himself what he meant. "Yes, really. Or not. Only for the trial, if you want, to get you out of trouble. Or now for the trial and later for real, I don't know, I could come up with a better proposal or you could if you wanted…" Dean blushed and looked away, and Seth got a moment's respite to clear his head when William got up abruptly. "Right back," he said, and went up the stairs.

"But… people would find out that we were hardly in the same room for more than a year before yesterday…" Seth finally said. Alexander had busied himself with his notepad, but looked back up now. "Yes, William informed me that your story has some twists and turns. Well, that might raise questions as to whether or not the two of you are for real…" he said slowly, but then smiled at them warmly. "But then, I think you are. So not much to worry about." Seth tightened his grip on Dean's fingers and felt himself flush brightly.

"Timing," William said as he came down the stairs again. "If their timing in-ring was as bad as their timing in real life, they would both be dead." He took his seat again and placed his closed fist on the table.

"Some time back, I don't know, I was younger and had smaller fingers, anyway… I ordered a custom-made ring, copper, a little square in shape. That thing got lost in the mail and they had to do it again and months after I got it, the first ring suddenly turned up and by then, the company told me to just keep it…" he opened his fist and let the two identical rings drop on the table. "Long story short – You can have them, if you want them. If you need them."

Dean freed his hands, picked up one of the rings and put it on his finger. It fit, or maybe it was a little too big. Seth took the other one, but just held it in the palm of his hand, feeling the cold metal against his skin.

It felt good. And scary. And like too much. He put it back on the table.

"Anyway, you think about that, but back to the case…" Alexander said with another look at his notepad. "The one thing I really, really need you to understand, and that concerns both of you: You will be so much better off if you turn yourselves in. I understand the problem, and I see that now that Dean is listed as a suspect you are even less likely than before to do that. William said you have someone close to the investigation?" Seth nodded and took out the second pre-paid phone.

"Friend of ours, he will call if they find the guy. But, so far, nothing." He checked the phone again just in case. Alexander nodded again. "We need to beat the clock here. This will be much worse if they just find you – and sooner or later, they will. And if they do, you put up your hands and go with them. No more flight. You run, they chase. And you give away that you knew fully well that they were searching for you. Is that understood?" "I can't make that promise," Dean said and Seth closed his eyes in despair.

"Then let's hope it does not come to this. Hope this phone rings before the doorbell…" Alexander flipped the notepad shut. "Come on, Xander. Tea in the library!" William said. Alexander rolled his eyes melodramatically, but followed him upstairs.

"This place has a library?" Seth asked. Dean grinned in an exasperated way. "Nah. Not really. They are just giving us space to talk." Dean took Seth's hand again and pulled him over to the sofa in front of the television. Dean's arms closed around Seth before he had even touched the seat and pulled him on top of him, kissing his lips softly before parting them with his tongue, licking the insides. Seth shuddered all over and kissed him back slowly and sensually, adjusting his body to fit between Dean and the cushions.

Dean finally broke the kiss and nuzzled Seth's neck. "I get it, you know?" he whispered against Seth's throat. "It's… it's too fast. Too big. I know we've never really been together, like, you know, as a couple." "We basically lived together for years," Seth disagreed, but he knew it was only half-true, of course. "I just want you to get out of this as well as possible, you understand? And if that is something that would help…" He let the sentence hanging and Seth kissed his hair, thinking, trying to make sense of the knot in his stomach.

"We would need a pre-nup, though," Dean suddenly realized. "No way," Seth answered just as quickly. Dean pulled back to look at Seth. "Seth, I'm totally broke. The medical bills. I can't make a living from what I do best anymore. You'll get picked up by another company. You have the wrestling school, your endorsements. No one is going to say that I married you to get to your money." "Stop the press, Dean Ambrose worries what other people might think," Seth grinned and kissed Dean again. Dean pushed Seth's hair back from his face. "I mean it." "So do I," Seth answered. He rolled over to end the discussion for the moment and felt Dean kiss his neck, softly tracing the scar.

"Whatever happens…" Dean whispered. "A bit more than 24 hours ago, I would never have believed that… that I could be so fucking happy, it's almost disgusting." Seth laughed, and felt more warmth spreading through his body. "Me too," he said. "Worried as hell, but incredibly happy at the same time. Does that make sense?" He felt Dean shrug behind him. "Let's just do the happy part for a while. While we can." Seth pulled up Dean's hand and kissed his fingers one by one. The ring looked good on Dean's hand. Right, somehow. He twisted it softly between his fingers. "Dean?" "Hm?" "I don't think our… story can take another round of pretending. Of doing things we don't mean. I'm not going to marry you just because how it would look in court." "Okay," Dean breathed into his neck. "Maybe you're right." He did not ask the obvious next question and Seth was glad.

"Can I ask you something?" Seth whispered instead. "Sure. Shoot." "Two things…" Seth said, still playing with the ring on Dean's finger. "Did you consider dumping me at that hotel? Don't lie, please." Dean groaned, then laughed, but answered. "Yes. I did. But I had already let go of the idea when you asked me." He sighed. "As you said, it would have made sense. Would have made you the victim. All easier for you, in the end, without me. But… well, I'm terribly selfish and so I had to take you with me." Seth pressed Dean's hand to his lips. "Good answer. Would not have believed you if you said you didn't."

"No more stories," Dean replied. "Second thing?" Seth squirmed a little. "It's stupid, I don't even know if you remember, but oh well… Remember when I took you home with me, that first night in Tampa?" "Err, yes?" Dean asked with an unbelieving laugh. "You think I would forget that?" Seth ignored the comment. "You… almost bailed on me. I kind of talked you round…" "I remember," Dean said softly. "Why?" Seth asked when Dean did not go on. Dean took a deep breath and Seth realized that he could not find the words. But he waited. "I'll try. Don't bite my head off, okay?" Seth nodded.

"I was... oh, who am I kidding, we both were never exactly celibate," Dean started and Seth couldn't suppress a snort. "But I… I really had not wanted to hook up with someone in FCW. Risk that chance of being found out. Or risk the tension if… if things didn't work out. And then you came along, and our match, and all that… and I had kind of promised myself, okay, one night, get that out of your system, get over it. And… yeah, that didn't happen." Seth felt Deans arm hug him tighter. "And at that moment, I kind of knew. I knew it wasn't just some crush. Knew I would not get over you any time soon. Call it some kind of crazy precognition, but back then… I kind of got a glimpse of the next almost-ten years. And… how much you would mean to me. And then…" Dean sighed. "You got scared," Seth finished for him. "Yeah," Dean said and kissed his neck again. "When you talked me into staying, you made it sound so casual… and it was an offer I couldn't have refused, anyway."

"Yeah, I'm good at making things look casual, I guess," Seth whispered. "I'm so sorry. I've been so stupid, and proud and… I never meant to hurt you. But I did. I know." Dean turned Seth over in his arms and kissed him, slowly, deeply and Seth felt himself melt into Dean. "It's not important anymore," Dean whispered when they broke apart, and Seth placed his head on Dean's chest, listening to his heart while Dean stroked his hair.

After a while, Seth could feel Dean move under him. "Too heavy?" Seth asked. "Nah," Dean answered. "Just looking at the time… I think the others are about to start…" "Hm?" "Wrestlemania," Dean said and he sounded as if he had said a forbidden word. "Yeah, starts really damn early this year. You think we should watch?" Seth asked. "Don't know, what do you think?" Dean said uncertainly. "Maybe we're getting new info…" Seth speculated. "But probably not." He thought for a second. "I understand it now," he finally said. "That's probably going to hurt a lot… but I want to see them. Roman, especially. And make sure Brock does not botch Daniel to death."

Seth got out of the way so Dean could grab the remote and find the channel. "And now, we're ready for our first match," the announcer told them. "As we already said, Roman Reigns defends The US Title not only against Daniel Bryan, with whom he had a bitter feud for the last months, but also against Brock Lesnar, whose spokesman Paul Heyman let everyone know that his client would not leave without a title!"

"Whoa, we're just in time," Dean said and sat down next to Seth on the sofa. Hearing Roman's music hit took Seth back to the time when he was injured, at home, and the pain rose immediately. At the same moment, Dean's hand slipped back on top of his. They watched Roman enter the ring, belt on his shoulder, and Seth felt the phantom weight of his own abandoned title.

"He looks worried," Dean said quietly. "He does," Seth agreed. "And he should not. He's the heel champ. Nothing worries him." There was a noise from the stairs as William and Alexander came back down to join them. "Uh, out early!" William said. "Probably distracting attention… the guy with the tattoo and the black mane is their friend on the inside," he pointed out to Alexander. "Well, no help from him in the next hour or so, I'd say," Alexander answered. "And your student Daniel. I remember him."

They watched Daniel enter. "And he looks worried, too," Dean stated. "Well, he should. He's the only face, he can be worried," Seth said. "And probably should be, anyway. If Daniel takes a suplex I'll drive back and curbstomp the road agent…Why is Brie not ringside?" "Maybe just not in the picture?" Dean hazarded. Seth shook his head. "It's weird. It's really weird. And there's Galina, but no Jojo?"

"At least Brock and Paul look like their usual selves," Dean commented. The announcement was made. Roman forgot to hand over the title belt so that the referee had to follow him and take it from him. Dean and Seth exchanged a glance. "That's because of us," Seth mumbled. "Roman, focus." The bell rang. Roman ran forward and hit a superman punch on Brock that made the other man fly backwards. Seth's hand got almost crushed in Dean's but he did not care. "He connected that punch," Dean yelled "WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING?"

* * *

Daniel tried to take a deep breath and failed. His chest felt constricted with worry and he saw that the hair on his arms stood up. Which would not be that unusual, given that it was Wrestlemania, but of course now everything was different. So many things that could go wrong. He watched Roman forget to hand over his title and looked away. He thought he must be transparent, the plan written on his forehead for everyone to see.

He wanted to find Brie in the crowd, get some encouragement just from seeing her, but he knew she was not there.

 _"There's something else I need to ask you," he had told Brie on the phone after they had explained what had happened. "We have a plan. It won't be dangerous for me. But I need you and the kids at hotel. Don't come here." "You're not going to tell me why, are you?" Brie said after a while. "No," Daniel agreed. "Can you trust me?" Brie gave this some thought. "I doubt the not-dangerous part. But… okay, I'll do what you want. I'll stay here. And you better come back in one piece…" "I love you," Daniel said. "I love you, too." Brie answered and hung up._

Galina had not taken the same deal, she had downright refused to leave the arena when Roman had asked her to, but she made sure that Jojo was not ringside, but further back with her grandparents. Daniel could now see Galina, lips moving, and he suspected a silent prayer. He appreciated that. When the bell rang, Daniel held his breath until he saw Roman's punch connect.

" _What if I can't do that," Roman had whispered to him just before his music hit. "I can't remember when I punched anyone for real…""We don't have to…." Daniel had started, but Roman shook his head. "He'll get away. I need to find the guts to do it."_

Brock stumbled backwards, in pain and surprise, and Daniel slid out of the ring. Before the referee could get to Brock, Daniel had grabbed his ankle and pulled him out of the ring as well. He had known the man for many years, and just hoped he would play along. There was no real alternative. "Get out of our way, Charles," Daniel whispered into his ear after he had pulled out the ear piece and helped the other man up. "I beg you. This is not about you. Just stand back. Don't get involved." Charles stared at him wide-eyed and uncomprehending, but a glance at Roman seemed to convince him.

There was a wild, dangerous fire in Roman's eyes as he dragged Brock into the middle of the ring. The other man was still confused enough so that Roman managed to hold him down, shouting towards Daniel. Daniel grabbed at for his boot and pulled out the paper towel they had drenched in all cleaning equipment they had found in their makeshift prison. As he tossed it towards Roman, Daniel met Paul's horrified gaze. "You stay where you are," Daniel mouthed.

Just then, an epic feedback noise crashed through the arena and a glance at the announcing teams told Daniel that all communication had broken down. He leaned against the apron, where he knew the ring mics would be, and clicked his tongue. The echo reverberated all through the stadium. So that had worked as well.

 _Galina had always thought it fundamentally true that life was what happened while you made other plans. She had never watched wrestling when she was younger, until she met Roman. And back then, even Roman was not a wrestler but just a football player from a wrestling dynasty. She had grown into the business, with all its own rules, standards and intrigues. In spite of all that, what she had to do right now really took the cake. Sneaking into the tech-area backstage unseen had been easier than expected, finding the right door was not. By a glance through the window at the equipment, she finally decided on a room that held two guys. One of them stopped dead in mid-movement of shoving a handful of chips into his mouth._

 _Galina closed the door behind her decisively. Both men took off their headphones and pushed a couple of buttons that she assumed were to mute transmissions. "Can we help you?" the guy without chips asked. "You are in charge of sound?" Both men nodded. "Heard it's not such a good gig," Galina started. "Understatement of the year," the guy with the chips said. "Well," Galina said and took out her purse. That was a definitive upside of a huge wrestling dynasty behind you – you could go and ask them to give you all their cash because Roman needs it, and they would, no questions asked. "I have an offer to make. You probably won't work for WWE ever again. But you would help in righting one of the many injustices in WWE. And I would pay you well."_

Daniel cleared his throat and it rang all through the building. The crowd was dead silent. It was unnerving in a space as big as this. He would have to be quick, and precise, and he had thought he could handle that, but right now he was not sure anymore. He had to start somewhere.

"I'm sure you all heard some version what happened yesterday. We want you to know the truth. A woman died in Dean Ambrose's hotel room, but the injury that killed her was older, and not inflicted by him. She was hurt by a man who had hired her, then harmed her so badly that she fled. She did not know she was dying, and met Dean, who only tried to help. Afterwards, Dean panicked and ran, but the man responsible for her death is still here. He didn't speak up, or tried to exonerate Dean, or apologized for what he had done to this woman.

"Her name was Monica. Before she ran, she bit her client to get away from him. We saw that bite mark on one of our colleagues, though he had tried to hide it. He got a friend to give him an alibi, and destroyed the evidence in his room. He booked a flight to get away immediately after our match. We could not let that happen. We tried to tell the people who should care, but they didn't listen."

Daniel looked up and saw one camera on him, one on Roman. He had little hope that the TV signal would be still on, but a Wrestlemania crowd was more than enough witnesses. And held down by Roman, still dizzy, Brock could be seen on the TitanTron, every little teeth mark on his neck in high definition. "Brock, is there anything you want to say?" Daniel asked. "I'm sorry, maybe?"

* * *

"Is that for real?" Alexander asked without taking his eyes off the TV screen. "Roman would not agree to a storyline like this," Seth breathed. "But, if this isn't scripted, why is no-one interfering?" the lawyer went on. "Because they can't tell either," Dean said, eyes glued to the screen as well. "Not for sure. Too much shit has gone down before. And no-one wants the wrath of the WWE for disturbing a planned Wrestlemania match. And there are so many people. Everybody waits for everyone else to make the first move. Oh, they're good." "Still, the spell will break soon…" Seth said, clutching Dean's hand.

* * *

Brock remained silent, and Daniel wondered if Roman had hit him too hard, after all. But then, Brock's eyes flew open, and he was seething with rage. Roman had not seen it coming and in a second Brock had shaken him off his back. Roman stumbled, and Brock pounced. Both men rolled on the floor, but Brock got the upper hand. Daniel watched in shock as Brock punched Roman's face, then closed his hands around his throat.

It was so deep down, wired into his soul that Daniel only realized what he was doing when he found himself jumping off the top rope. His knee hit Brock's upper back and he rolled away from Roman, who was clutching his throat, gasping for breath. Daniel got back to his feet, but as he looked up, there was Brock right in front of him, hand balled to a fist, ready to strike.

Roman found enough air to scream: "No!" at the top of his voice, in perfect unison with Seth, miles away in front of the TV screen, and the collective gasp from the audience.

There was a flicker of hesitation in Brock's eyes. Daniel ducked and Roman hit a spear into Brock's side. This time, Roman got the upper hand and Daniel jumped to his help, putting Brock into a chokehold while Roman held him down. "Admit it!" Roman roared, now dripping blood from a cut over his eye. Daniel tightened his grip, then let go again to give Brock a chance to speak, but he did not make a sound.

Right then, Daniel realized how badly were stuck now. Brock would not talk. Daniel would have to let go. He could choke Brock out, but what for? And what if he overdid it and seriously hurt him? He knew he could not risk that, no matter what the other man had done.

There was no way to go from here. He tried to look at Roman, but Roman knew it, too. Slowly, Daniel started to relieve the pressure on Brock's neck.

"For the love of God, stop it!" he suddenly heard a voice behind him. It was Paul Heyman. "I admit it! I was the one who called her agency, booked her for him. I got him the make-up, gave him a false alibi, made him destroy the evidence. But he didn't mean to hurt her. It was an accident. You must believe me. I'm so sorry, but stop, please just stop!"

* * *

At that precise moment, the TV screen went black. Seth's hand was numb in Dean's. He didn't remember how to breathe, just stared at the black screen.

Alexander found his voice first. "Gentlemen," he said. "I heard you came here in some nicer clothing. Suit up. Because we are calling the police _right now_."

 **I'd like to take this opportunity to say sorry to all fans of Brock Lesnar and Paul Heyman, whose real-life counterparts have done nothing to deserve this except playing convincing heels.**

 **While I write out of kayfabe, I can still use the fictional names for most of my cast (minus Galina (and to some degree Brie), but at least they have sympathetic roles), and it always nagged me a lot that with the two of them, that's not possible. That was actually very high on my list of reasons to stuff this whole thing into a drawer and never let it see the light of day.**  
 **Replacing them didn't work, so, in the end, I just decided to add this disclaimer. I'm sorry if I offended anyone.**

 **Another note: The effect that everybody waits for everyone else to make the first move is also called the Genovese effect . (I just saw Kitty Genovese would have turned 81 tomorrow. If you don't know that story, I very much recommend reading up on it.)**

 **So, enough serious notes. I very much hope you liked the showdown! Obviously had to go for the "The Grandest Stage of Them All" ;) And everybody is still alive and no-one is seriously injured!**

 **Still a lot of open questions, though, and two chapters to go. Thank you so much for following this story all the way to here, I hope you'll like the last bit!**


	19. Chapter 19

When Alexander called, the police was less than 45 minutes from William's home. "Fucking close," Alexander murmured after hanging up and Seth guessed that the lawyer did not curse often. Seth and Dean had gotten dressed in stunned silence, packed their bags and waited on  
the sofa downstairs.

"It's a mistake," Dean whispered into Seth's ear. "What if Paul took it back the second they went off the air?" Seth shook his head and took Dean's head between his hands for emphasis. "Don't go there. Everybody saw the bite mark. And I'm sure Paul was telling the truth. Just remember the way he looked. The police will have to investigate now. And they were almost here anyway. We got a lucky break here, trust me."

Wrestlemania had come back on after a while, with The Irish Troubles, Finn and Becky, taking the stage against Hideo and Asuka as if nothing had happened. No comment. Show must go on.

William had searched Twitter to find out what happened after the TV broadcast was cut. There was much speculation, many people thinking it all a work. But there were also pictures, pictures of Daniel and Roman on their knees, hands behind their heads, police approaching. "It's the smart move," Alexander had commented as he saw the shock on Dean's face. "They did just assault someone, after all. Police won't hurt them if they feel they're safe. It's all good."

It didn't feel good to Seth. He sat so close to Dean that he was almost on his lap, stroked his hair, whispered to him, not knowing what he was saying, just trying to keep Dean calm with the sound of his voice. Less than 45 minutes turned out to be a very long time and a very short time as well.

When the knock finally came, Alexander answered the door for them. Seth felt Dean tense so much that for a moment that he wondered if it was too late to run, after all. Take his hand. Through the garden, out of this place. But they had run enough. He would have to find the courage to stay right where he was, and go wherever Dean would be taken.

Alexander greeted the two young policemen at the door politely, but instantly made sure they followed procedure to a T. He checked every piece of identification and the warrant that they had with them in electronic form. "I see... Mr. Ambrose is downgraded to person of interest again!" he said loud enough for Seth and Dean to hear. "That's good, babe." Seth whispered. "Look, you are not a suspect anymore." "Officially," Dean replied uncertainly.

His suspicion seemed confirmed when one of the men produced a pair of handcuffs. "Pardon me, but these two men called the police themselves because they found out they might help with an investigation and you take out these… things?" Alexander asked in a tone of honest shock so convincing that the young policeman actually blushed. Seth wondered if Alexander had ever considered a career on stage.

"I'm sorry. Mr. Ambrose, Mr. Rollins, would you please follow me?" The young man asked instead. "I need to take you back to the station; the detective wants to question you himself."

Dean shuddered, but Seth pulled him to his legs using both his hands. He supported him as if Dean had taken a bad bump. "You'll let us travel together?" Seth asked quietly. The policemen relented before Alexander had opened his mouth again. "We can take both of you in our car," he said. "Mr. Regal, world you come, too? The detective wants to talk to everyone..." William nodded. "Whatever you want, of course. I'll take my own car." They had agreed beforehand that they would keep their mouths shut about the "borrowed" car hidden in the garage for now.

There were a few things they had figured out, but not all of them. Dean had stubbornly kept the ring on his finger when they had changed, even though he did not mention it again. Now Seth looked back at the table, but the second copper ring was no longer there. He felt his heart sink, wanted to step over to look for it, but before he could try, William drew first Dean and then him into a tight hug. "You can do it," William whispered. Seth nodded, unsure what exactly he could do, but agreeing just to make Dean feel better.

"I'm travelling with Mr. Regal," Alexander announced. He was first and foremost William's lawyer, after all, and Seth and Dean had agreed that they didn't want any of their mess to rub off on him. "Really, I had no idea there was anything wrong..." William said with so much over-exaggerated surprise that Alexander rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you actually made money by acting," he said almost inaudibly through gritted teeth. Seth could not help but smile in spite of everything else. All the way to the car, he never took his hands off Dean's body - keeping him safe, reminding him that he was not alone.

* * *

Daniel had seen the policemen- and women come out immediately after Paul's confession. He and Roman had known what would have to happen next. Brock still lay on the mat, conscious, but staring into the distance, completely motionless. Paul had sunk down at a barricade, face in hands, and Daniel suspected that he was crying. Daniel and Roman got on their knees beside Brock, hands behind their heads. It was so quiet that Daniel could hear the blood drip from Roman's wound.

"Are you okay?" Daniel had asked without taking his eyes off the approaching police. "You could have died," Roman whispered. "I promised Brie you'll be safe, and you almost died." "But I didn't." Daniel stated. "He wouldn't have. I'm sure. He wouldn't have."

Daniel noticed how uncertain the policemen looked, and he was surprised that there were no handcuffs. No big speech like he expected from television. They had just asked him to get up and follow. Of course he had done that.

He had been held backstage first, back in their dressing room and managed to grab at least some of his things. Roman had been taken elsewhere, probably to get his wound seen to. He didn't know what had happened to Brock and Paul.

Then they had taken him to the police station. He had tried to see what was going on around him, maybe catch a glimpse of Roman, but the only person he recognized was Detective Adams, who was in conversation with an older woman with hawk-like features. He looked harassed, and when the women shot him a hard, appraising glance, Daniel immediately understood the feeling.

Then he had been brought to an interrogation room, where he had been alone for several hours now. He was still pretty sure that he had not been arrested. The door was not locked, in theory he could just leave. He had not been charged with anything. Yet. Occasionally, a friendly young policewoman had offered him coffee or a snack. Still, he wondered if this was legal. Leaving him alone to worry himself insane. 'Sit in the corner and think about what you did and we'll talk punishment later.' So when Detective Moore entered, Daniel childishly felt like shouting: "I'm still not sorry!"

"Mr. Bryan! Or should I say Detective Bryan?" Detective Moore started. Daniel did not feel like honoring this with a reply. "I don't even know where to start with you," the detective said and leaned against the wall. "Well, took you long enough to get here," Daniel answered and instantly regretted it.

"You'll be please to hear that I was busy with what I came here to do in the first place - find the person responsible for Monica O'Connor's death. If I may remind you - that's still what it is all about - from me being here to your stunt on stage earlier. At least I hope so."

Daniel nodded. Making this about him really had not been such a good idea. "Of course," the detective continued, "Your intervention will make it so much harder to prosecute Mr. Lesnar and Mr. Heyman. Court of public opinion, and all that. Though I highly doubt you considered that part of the problem when you jumped him."

"He would have gotten away with it," Daniel said. "He was almost on the plane home, no-one would have documented the bite and he destroyed evidence in his room! What were we supposed to do?"

"For a start, not committing a crime and making it all much messier would have been nice. And Mr. Lesnar's bedding may be gone, but there are other things we can check. Fingerprints on the headboard. The back of the headboard, where no-one ever cleans, in my experience. DNA on the carpet, where a person would get out of bed with naked feet. Long hair in the shower. Believe it or not Mr. Bryan, we are not complete amateurs."

"I saw Hunter bribe you," Daniel replied harshly. "Me?" the detective asked and raised an eyebrow in mockery, but he let it drop again immediately. For a moment, he could not meet Daniel's eyes and Daniel realized he had hit a nerve. "No, don't say it Mr. Bryan. It's not funny, I know. My men took Mr. Helmsley's money, I know that by now. One of them came to me, confessed. After he had informed the DA as well - you might have seen her outside. For what it's worth, he swears that Mr. Helmsley "only" asked them to keep the information that you spotted something back until after Wrestlemania. So the case would have been solved by now even without that dramatic interlude."

"And that is the problem," Daniel said, anger flaring up. "You don't understand this business. Do you know that Raw after Wrestlemania is almost as important as Wrestlemania itself? Like the final episode of one season of a TV-show and the first one of the new season? It's the show that can make the difference if fans stay with us for another round or not. And God knows we need to fans to stick around. Maybe it was "just Wrestlemania" a few hours ago, but maybe it would be "next week" now and so on and so on... fact is, you don't know. And what we did took that uncertainty away."

The detective gave Daniel a long, appraising look, but did not answer. "And by the way, Hunter also bribed someone Saturday morning." Daniel added. "Did you know? And did Hunter know that it was Brock all along?"

Detective Moore shrugged. "I knew he bribed someone to rush along the autopsy. At that point my guess is that he just hoped to be rid of us by the time your big show started. And for your other question - I can't know for sure and maybe a court of law will have to decide this."

He sighed, and then seemed to give in after some inner debate. "But really? I may know little about your business, but in my business, you learn to judge people, and especially their motives. With Mr. Helmsley that seems pretty easy at the moment - it's protecting his company. Neither family, nor friends matter to him that much right now. Just this business. And because of that, I very much doubt he knew. Putting Mr. Reigns and Mr. Lesnar in front of TV cameras together even though Mr. Reigns had said he knew what happened? What you did – it's the worst case for him, too. He would not have risked that." Daniel nodded. It made sense. And it was more than the detective was obliged to tell him.

"So, but do you want to say anything about almost choking a man on national television?" The detective took over the interview again. "Citizen's arrest?" Daniel hazarded. "Really?" the detective's eyebrow shot up again. "Look, am I under arrest?" Daniel asked. "Not right now," the detective answered unwillingly. "You'll have to thank the DA for that. After finding out about the bribery, she was very concerned how arresting you in front of everyone would look for the police, and, undoubtedly, herself. Also, you have to thank Mr. Lesnar, whether you like it or not. He insisted that you had already loosened the grip around his neck when Mr. Heyman interfered. And that is actually visible on the TV tape. Lucky you! Otherwise, this might have been attempted murder after all and that would have limited the options…"

Daniel let out a deep breath he did not know he had been holding. "As for a battery charge against you and Mr. Reigns – I'm coming to that." He let out a small laugh. "Three men agree to pretend to hurt each other on live television, but then two of them conspire to hurt the third one for real on purpose of eliciting a confession to an earlier crime – It's so contrived, it sounds like something straight out of a law school exam. The DA's office can work this out in due time and charge you then. And I didn't even mention the obstruction of justice..."

"Which will not go anywhere if we tell that we were locked up by bought policemen," Daniel said harshly. "Or will you make sure that this will not reach the public?"

The detective's face turned to stone. "I can't help it that you obviously think me hopelessly incapable of doing my job, but tread very lightly when it comes to accusing me of corruption." Daniel knew he had overstepped. "I'm sorry," he said.

„I will make sure this will go all the way - for everyone," Detective Moore continued. "Manslaughter and maybe rape, in the unlikely case we can prove it, for Mr. Lesnar, battery for you and Mr. Reigns, obstruction for Mr. Heyman and maybe for Mr. Rollins and Mr. Ambrose. Bribery for Mr. Helmsley and my men. Maybe professional consequences for my failure to lead them." He looked at the floor, but then rallied.

"But, Mr. Bryan, speaking of everyone involved in your attack on Mr. Lesnar… Do you maybe want to show some good will? Maybe tell me about how conveniently all the audio got cut – all but the ring microphones?" "I thought it must be divine intervention?" Daniel said as drily as he could. "Quite," the detective answered. "Two technicians who give each other alibis and five additional ex-employees with full access and potential grudges. If the DA wants to charge anyone for that, she'll probably need divine intervention."

"By the way, you sounded very sure about Mr. Ambrose's motives out there. "Only tried to help…" you couldn't know though, could you? You haven't seen him in months, after all, and you certainly didn't talk to him after yesterday morning, now, did you?"

"I've known him for many years. It's what he would do," Daniel said through gritted teeth, but held the detective's gaze. "Call it artistic license." Finally, it was the detective who looked away.

"So, what happens now?" Daniel asked. "My colleague will come in here with a citation that you will need to sign if you want to walk out of here today. She'll explain all the details. Most importantly, you'll have to return to this state and stand trial if you will be charged. In the meantime, I'm going to continue fitting the pieces of this sorry mess together." "Did Roman sign the citation?" Daniel asked.

"I honestly don't know," the detective replied. Daniel could not suppress a smile. "Because he never answered anything you asked and just glared at you the entire time of his interview?" Daniel hazarded. "Very accurate guess," the detective admitted and there was a sudden glint in his eye.

"Mr. Bryan, in case you meet Mr. Reigns outside… Since he would not talk to me, I kind of forgot to tell him that Mr. Ambrose and Mr. Rollins turned themselves in and are now in the next two interview rooms. I think he might want to know that, don't you?" _Asshole_ , Daniel thought, but for once caught his tongue in time. "Are they alright?" he asked instead as relief triumphed over anger. "In perfect health, as far as I can tell. Though my men worried that they would need to call in a surgeon to separate them." He shrugged and smiled.

"Just kidding, of course. Mr. Bryan, I wish I could say this has been a pleasure. I came here to find out why a woman died, and you and Mr. Reigns made that so much more difficult. Still, no matter how much I disagree with how it happened, in the end helped to make things right. There will be a legal reckoning, but just let me say that I'm very glad that you did not pay a far greater price for what you did. Think of your wife, your children, and what your health is worth to them, if it's not worth much to you." He went to the door without waiting for a reply. "Goodbye Mr. Bryan. All the best."

Daniel looked at the closed door and he realized that after all that happened, he could not really grasp the other man, could not place him or his motives. He was so lost in thought that the policewoman had to address him twice before he even noticed that she was there.

* * *

Seth knew that they would keep him waiting and expected to be watched through the suspicious-looking mirror at the side of the room. He had practiced enough promos in front of a mirror, but this time, he did not know what he was going for, what he wanted to look like. He only knew he wanted this to be over.

The man who came for him in the end was tall and neat, but there was something about him that only heightened Seth's worry. He could not tell what it was - the face of the stranger only showed guarded curiosity. The man sat down opposite him and leaved through some papers that he brought. "Mr. Rollins. My name is Detective Moore, I'm in charge of the investigation into the death of Monica O'Connor."

Seth nodded. "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you anything about this," he said. "I never met her, never talked to her, never even saw a picture." The detective smiled an unnerving smile. "Of course you can't. Didn't expect you to. You know why you are here. You are here because you helped a suspect hide from the police."

"I'm not going to comment on this unless you charge me with something," Seth said. They had practiced that line. The detective leaned back in his chair and looked at Seth as if he was studying an animal under a magnifying glass.

"You're not like I expected, Mr. Rollins," the detective finally said. Seth kept a poker face, tried not to answer. "You know, until you turned up here, there were only two things I could go by to form a picture," the detective went on. "What your acquaintances say about you, and what you did to get my attention in the first place." Seth blinked, tried to guess where he was going.

"In your case, what you did seems wildly irrational, emotional, impulsive. Your friends mostly described you as someone who plans well ahead, cool under fire. Other may have said that you are not the most likely candidate to do something wildly altruistic. That accidentally hurting someone by being egoistic is much more your style." Seth noticed that he nodded softly. He did not feel like he could argue with that after all that had happened. "So?" he asked and tried a soft smile.

"Well, I should have given more credit to your friends, it seems," the detective answered. "You waited for me calmly, your voice is steady. No pacing. No obvious tells in the movements of your legs, your hands. Unlike _other people_ in the same situation." _He means Dean, of course_ , Seth knew immediately. Dean pacing in another room. Panicking. Waiting. He tried not to flinch, show that the detective had gotten to him.

"And you know why I find that especially interesting?" The detective asked but continued without waiting for an answer. "Because I'm convinced that deep down, you are actually terrified. There is a tension in your body that's pretty obvious if you know what you're looking for, but maybe you don't even feel that. My guess is that you are pretty good at hiding your feelings. Maybe even from yourself?" Seth hated him, hated him for being right and wrong at the same time – he felt the fear, clear, piercing, screaming just below the surface.

"You're not scared for yourself. At least I think not. When I came to this case yesterday, I didn't quite understand just how enormous running away from this event of yours was. I get it now. Most of your co-workers consider you a traitor and there is no real alternative for a wrestler, is there? No other company remotely as famous as yours. And not many other ways to make a living. No real qualifications. Many stories of how people crashed and burned after leaving. So, I think that I have very little to scare you with. A trial and maybe, worst case, jail time. Seems almost insignificant in comparison. Nah. You're scared for the man in the next room. Scared so badly that losing your entire existence seemed to be a rational decision."

Seth looked down at the table and saw that he had started scratching at it with his nails. "Maybe it was a rational decision. And maybe it was impulsive, and maybe it was egoistic," he whispered. "And maybe it was all at the same time." The detective smiled, and Seth thought he could make out a strange contentment in his face. "One question I need to ask you, because it might make a difference to the procedure here…" the detective continued. "Are you related to Dean Ambrose by birth or marriage?"

Seth swallowed hard. He remembered something called a prisoner's dilemma - two people, both asked to confess to a crime or remain silent, but neither knowing what the other would do. His hand slipped into his jacket pocket, around the small copper band. William had undoubtedly dropped it there when he had hugged him goodbye. It was scary to think that Dean might say no, after all when he was asked the same question. Or what would happen if he said yes. If they could pull it off. But really, in his heart Seth knew there could only be one answer now. Not for what it would look like to anyone else, or what it would get him in court, but because he needed Dean to know he was all in. Would go all the way with him, no matter where it would lead. He slipped the ring on his finger.

"We're engaged," he said firmly and put his hand back on the table. "Well, congratulations, then," the detective said and Seth could not tell if there was sarcasm in his voice or not. "You didn't wear the ring before," the detective continued. "Still getting used to it," Seth answered. "So, when exactly did you get engaged?" "During the last 24 hours. Can't tell. Memory somewhat blurry." "Of course," the detective made a note. "Everything else would be strange, because it's pretty well known that you were apart for months. Both of you spent the night before last with a woman."

"So?" Seth asked. "Quite," the detective replied. "By the way, does Mr. Ambrose know that?" Seth glared. "If you are trying to play us, go ahead, try. No, he does not know. But he will be neither hurt nor surprised." Seth took a deep breath. He had been talking too much already. But the detective had played his cards well. "Dean and I, we go back a long way. Almost a decade. He has no illusions about me." "That must be nice," the detective said. Again, he smiled his strange impenetrable smile, then busied himself with paperwork for a while.

For his next question, he did not look up, and his voice seemed far away. "You know, from what I gathered, your former co-workers are really angry with the two of you. Extremely angry. They feel very, very betrayed. And yet, they never told us about you and him. Protected, what, as far as I can tell, used to be a secret. I wonder… is it really still that bad, 2020, in your line of work? Still such a big deal when two men love each other?"

Seth looked at the detective and wondered about the question. Looked for the trap. The relevance. But he could not find it. "They didn't know," he answered. "They didn't protect us." He found the detective's eyes on him again, an eyebrow raised, another wan smile on his lips. "Oh, but they did. Well, I can only prove it for about five of them, but one of those clearly indicated that it was common knowledge. You were scared of the consequences of it all coming out?"

Seth shook his head. He felt like he could not maneuver anymore. The others had known, all along, but said nothing. He felt a rush of gratitude, and shame.

"No. Not really. We're… they're… not like that. I knew they would not judge me. The problem… I'm the problem. Was. Me and Dean, that it took us so long, that was my fault. I… I hope there will be time... time to fix it." Seth heard his voice give out and was glad that the detective gave him time to collect himself.

"Mr. Rollins…" the detective started again, "Just explain it to me. I'm not your enemy, believe it or not. What made running from us, killing your career, look like a sensible plan, if Mr. Ambrose did not do anything to Ms. O'Connor? What is it that you are so frightened of?"

Seth knew he could not do it anymore. He was not sure it was the right thing, but between holding back his tears and his words, he finally whispered: "Dean's so afraid of jail that he's not sure… he's scared he might do something to himself. He didn't threaten me that he would kill himself if I didn't help, that's not what happened. He… he just honestly believes he could not take it."

The detective nodded and leaned back in his chair. He did not look at Seth and Seth was glad for it. "You know, Mr. Rollins," he said quietly, "A man more vindictive than me might lock him up just because." "And someone less vindictive would not even suggest that!" Seth spat back. He had not told the policeman that it was the idea of life in prison Dean feared much more than a night spent in jail. He had not omitted it on purpose, but he was thankful all the same.

The detective held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. "You know that Mr. Lesnar will probably walk out of here tonight? Prisons are full, if he posts bail on time, he will not even spend the night." Seth nodded. "But Brock has no priors, as far as I know. And by now, I think you are pretty sure Monica's death was not intentional. And I believe that. I worked with him for weeks. I know that after all those years, he does not know his own strength well. It's terrible, but it's not murder all the same. We didn't know… Hindsight…"

"… is 2020, I heard." the detective shuffled his papers. "You seem to have lost your car during the last 24 hours. Do you want me to list it as stolen?" "No, can't remember what happened with the car," Seth said as calmly as he could. "Let me guess, no idea how you got to Mr. Regal?" "Correct."

"Ah yes, I thought so," the detective said, gathered his paperwork and got up. "There will be some more formalities for you, Mr. Rollins, but I think for now we are done. Oh, one thing – what did you tell Mr. Regal why you had to crash at his place?" "Nothing," Seth replied. Here, he knew what was expected of him. "He never asked. I figured he probably thought I had finally gotten myself kicked out. I have a little bit of history there." "Almost entirely identical to what he said!" the detective smiled sardonically. "Change it up at least a little if you have to tell it again. Sounds better. Anyway, I think it might be in both of our interests if I talk to Mr. Ambrose now, don't you think? Goodbye. And… all the best." He closed the door behind him.

Seth did not know what to make of this and just stared mutely at his reflection in the mirror. He felt panic rise. Had he said too much? Too little? After a while, a junior policeman came with more papers, and Seth tried to read them, understand them, listen to what the cop said, but nothing made sense. The stuff he was supposed to sign was, as far as he could tell, just his basic information, and promises to return to the state should the court demand that. He signed,

blindly, then the cop left and Seth was alone again.

It took quite a while, but Seth's head had not stopped whirring when the door opened again. "Checked it, all okay. You can leave now," the junior cop said. Seth stared at the open door, not understanding. "We're done!" the cop repeated, slowly, as if talking to a small child. "Everything else will come by mail. You can go." He pointed out of the door to underline his words. Seth got up, legs weak like after a workout of the worst kind. The corridor felt shaky under his feet. He would have to leave without knowing what would happen to Dean. If he would be charged, locked up. If he was scared. Seth knew he could not leave. Would spend the night at the police station if necessary.

But as the policeman guided him through the door into the foyer, his eyes fell on a man in a disheveled-looking suit, dark curls messy, blue eyes wide and confused. Seth had not expected to see Dean, and while his heart did a giant jolt immediately, his mind needed more time. He stared at Dean, took it all in, the wrinkles in his clothes, the way his hair curled over his ears. His hands, a copper band on one finger, and a little bloody scab on the knuckles of his other hand. He could not read his expression, but then something propelled him forward and he flung himself into Dean's arms.

He was real after all, the curve of Dean's back under his arms, the scent of the skin on his neck, all was familiar, all was right. Strong arms closed around him, and Seth closed his eyes. He wanted to ask a million questions, but instead felt his whole body shake with sobs he had held back far too long. Words would not come, but tears did, drenching the collar of Dean's shirt.

"They cut me loose," Dean whispered, still sounding amazed. "They said I can go home." Seth looked up and laughed through the tears. "Me, too. It's over." Seth felt Dean's lips on his cheeks, kissing away the tears, stroking the rest from his lashes with his fingertips. Only then Seth realized that Dean was crying, too. "We can go home, baby," he whispered. Seth choked on another laugh and tried to brush away Dean's tears in return. "We didn't even say where home will be from now on," he noticed. "Iowa," Dean answered firmly. "I know you don't ever want to leave that place." Seth nodded, swallowed more tears. "So, that means Vegas first. Get your stuff…" Seth said and then looked steadily in Dean's eyes. "And of course there's another thing we could do in Vegas, if you want…"

Dean didn't understand for a moment, but then grabbed Seth's left hand, looked at the ring on his finger. "So we're really getting married?" he asked, and locked his own left hand into Seth's watching the rings side by side. "If you really wa…" Seth started but Dean interrupted him before he could finish. "Shut up," he said and kissed him, crushing their joined hands between their bodies. Seth felt tears on his cheeks again, but was not sure if they were his or Dean's. Relief was almost overwhelming him, and love, love for the man he was going to marry. He let himself fall into the kiss and forgot everything around him.

* * *

Roman had been pacing for the last hour while Daniel desperately struggled with the almost nonexistent phone reception inside the waiting room of the police station.  
"He could have lied," Roman said darkly. "Hoped you would spill a clue to where they are." "Yes, but I don't think so," Daniel said and tried to reload the page for the thirtieth time.

Finally, finally, some pictures loaded. Daniel looked at them carefully before handing Roman the phone. Two grainy figures being led into the police station. "That's them. I'm sure," Roman said immediately. Daniel hadn't been that sure, but trusted Roman's intuition. "They dyed their hair, well that was to be expected," Roman continued. "Press writes they were handcuffed together…" Roman turned the phone again to show it to Daniel. "No, I just think they are holding hands. The detective said something like that…" Roman blinked. "I'm really not trying to get my hopes up," he whispered to Daniel. "I'm not sure what I'll do if…"

Daniel patted his shoulder. "We'll find out soon. And the wait is usually the worst part."

Daniel was still trying to get more information online when Roman jumped up and stared through the glass door that separated the waiting area from the foyer of the police station.

Daniel turned to look what happened and there they were. Their hair looked weird and their suits didn't fit, but it was his friends, Seth and Dean, healthy, in the middle of the room, all their body language speaking of their love for each other. Daniel watched them cry, and kiss, oblivious to the policemen and –women around them at their desks, some smiling, some annoyed.

"Look Roman," Daniel whispered. "It's alright. They're back." Daniel felt as if steel chains around his heart burst with relief, and he thought he could almost really hear that sound, from Roman's chest and his own.

He did not know if Roman had heard him speak. Roman pushed the door open so hard that Daniel was afraid it might shatter, and he and was with his brothers in a few strides. Daniel could see that he did not know whether to punch them or hug them. Dean and Seth broke apart and it took them a split second to realize who was coming for them, then both threw himself into Roman's arms and Daniel could see all three of them were crying, whispering to each other, hugging each other tight.

"Quite a show," a mild, ironic voice said behind him. Daniel turned around as if he had been caught red handed. "William," he almost shouted. "Dan," the older man said with a smile and hugged his former student. "Good to see you are out as well." "What are you doing here?" Daniel asked perplexedly. "They came to me," William said very softly. "Spent the night. We watched Wrestlemania together – well, the first part." Daniel nodded. "Smart, going to you." William smiled. "Thanks! I thought so, too. Though of course I had no idea what had happened. We're still right in the middle of a police station after all." he finished through his teeth. "By the way, Dan, as charming as this is, does it strike you as a little suspicious?"

"What do you mean?" Daniel asked and felt worry rise again in his chest. "It's all very convenient, having them out at the same time. Maybe the good detective wanted to make sure he was not lied to? If the story is true? If they are for real? He struck me as the devious kind…" Daniel snorted. "You could say that. Well, if he expected them to high-five and walk off, that misfired." William nodded and smiled softly. Daniel saw that Dean and Seth directed Roman's gaze to their hands now, and William's smile widened. "Yeah. That show would probably make a stone melt." "Let's leave them alone," Daniel said. "I think our part in this story is done." The three of them were together again. They would not need anyone else for now.

"Really?" William asked. "Nah. We – well, definitely you did enough to deserve at least a little more thanks." And with that, he had almost physically pushed Daniel through the glass door. The three men on the other side broke apart again, faces shining with tears, but happy smiles on their faces. Daniel went to hug Seth and Dean while William greeted Roman.

"Dumbass, we're not worth that risk," Seth immediately whispered in Daniel's ear. "Everybody keeps telling me what I should or should not do this weekend, and I have not even seen my wife after getting almost arrested," he replied with a wink.

"Okay, I never saw people so happy to spend more time than necessary in a police station," William told them. "Outside, there's every bloody reporter in the county, but still, let's be off. I, at least, want to go home." They went back to the waiting area and called a taxi. "I still got my key card for the hotel room," Seth realized as he pulled out his wallet. "So, back there first?" he looked at Dean. "With any luck, we won't meet any of the others…" "If they got anything to say to me or you, let them come," Dean growled and put an arm around Seth's shoulder.

"Nah…" Seth said and put his hand of Dean's. The rings gave a soft click and Daniel realized they were there for the first time. "What happened there?" William asked, pointing at the scab on Dean's other hand. "Waiting got hard… kind of punched the table…" Dean said sheepishly. "Well, I almost punched the detective," Daniel mumbled and Seth nodded emphatically. "Really?" Dean asked. "That Moore guy?" They nodded. "I thought he was really okay. Just asked for the facts, no mean stuff. Respectful, too. Lectured me how stupid it was to run, but I guess that's his right. Told me I might get a court order later, let me go. Only strange thing was that he snorted when I told him that William had not asked us why we turned up at his doorstep." Seth rolled his eyes. "We might have been a little to word-perfect there. Must be all the promos…" "Still. Inside. The. Station." William muttered through gritted teeth.

"He didn't ask you if I told you what I did Friday night?" Seth asked quietly. He knew the others would hear, but he needed to make sure this would not come back to bite him at some later point. "No, why should he?" Dean asked and Seth sighed. But before he could find words, Dean said: "Friday was Hall of Fame, so I guess you partied and then picked up one of the hostesses?" "Er, spot on," Seth said and Dean shrugged. Seth leaned even closer into Dean.

A policewoman entered the waiting room and they fell silent. She turned to Roman, and held out something. It was Roman's phone. "This is for you," she said. "The detective asked me to tell you…" she paused in concentration for a moment. "… tell you that he has neither the time nor the man-power to uncover any more of your disobedience and that he would like to go back to work on serious crime now. And that the other two phones will probably be released in the next few days. That's all." "Thank you," Roman called after her.

"Hm, a peace offering? That's good, I guess…" Daniel said. "Well, we'll have to wait what happens now. They didn't say we have to stay in town, did they? I really want to go home…" The others nodded. "But not right now," William said. The others looked at him. "Why should we stay?" Roman asked. "Raw, for one thing," William answered. That only got everyone even more confused. He sighed. "Okay, you think you will be suspended, or kicked out, and, yeah, maybe that's going to happen. But it didn't happen yet. So far, the three of you with active WWE contracts missed one match each. Well, you have any idea how many matches Shawn Michaels missed, and for worse reasons?"

"None of them was Wrestlemania, though," Seth said. "Granted," William agreed. "Still, all three of you are important." "Hunter said…" Seth started. "Hunter is still somewhere in this building, being questioned about bribing police." Dean and Seth gasped. "As far as I found out," William continued, "They are flying in Shane for some emergency meeting. They can hardly kick you out but let Hunter still work on Raw. As long as you are not suspended, you show up for work. And, by the way, when you get lawyers, which all of you should, get a publicity team as well. Your futures might hinge on that. And, seriously, I think there are some stories in there that the press might want to tell. 'Crime solved on live television!' 'Lovers on the run' – it's not bad stuff…" Seth cringed slightly, though he saw that William was right.

William glanced around the corner. "Cab is here – showtime, guys. You've got quite an audience. Xander is waiting in my car, I'll go home, and we'll discuss the… erm, vehicle problem… later." He waved at them and it took Seth a moment to understand that William was talking about the stolen – well – swapped car still in his garage. He had forgotten all about that. There was a lot of trouble lying ahead, he knew. But right now he felt safe and good with Dean's arm around his shoulders. "I'll go first, then the two of you, Dan at the back," Roman instructed as if he was on a military mission. Everybody nodded.

Together, they faced the frenzy of the camera flashes.

 **And this concludes Wrestlemania Weekend, and the main part of the story! Phew…**

 **No update on Wednesday, it would be just too weird to finish this in a hurry between two workdays. Also, I expect the epilogue might need a little more editing than the rest of the story. If you got anything I really need to cover in the epilogue (apart from the pretty obvious questions that will definitely be answered anyway), drop me a line!**

 **Epilogue will be posted one week from now.**

 **Prisoner's Dilemma is a game theory paradigm (and I'm not sure how I managed to turn this story into a chapter from a social psychology textbook. My apologies.)**

 **The "feeling as if steel chains around his heart burst" is originally from The Frog Prince.**

 **Thank you for reading all the way up to here; hope to see you all for the wrap-up in a week!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Before we head into the epilogue, I'd like to say thank you to some people. Most of all to kawx on AO3, who basically held my hand all the way through this. Thank you so much, without you, posting this would have been very, very different 3**

 **Also huge thanks to Fantooome, LunaticFringe'sAngel-LA15 and ambroserollinsgirl, and to Cheery and Ruby on AO3 for all the support, and of course to everyone else who left comments for me. You are lovely, thank you so much!**

Going back did not turn out to be that easy. Seth, Dean, Roman, Daniel and their families all holed up in their hotel rooms for the night and tried to gain access to someone who might be in charge the next morning, only to get officially suspended. "Until further notice," the assistant who had the bad luck to deliver the message told them. They were not released from their contracts. But it felt like this was just a matter of time. There was nothing left to do but go home and wait.

They all met again about a week later at Monica's funeral. Daniel had made sure with Carolyn that they would be welcome. So he stood at the graveside, holding Brie's hand, Roman with Galina next to him, Seth and Dean on the other side. There were few other people, mostly women around the same age; co-workers, Daniel suspected. And Detective Moore was there, a little way off, on his own. Carolyn later told Daniel that Paul Heyman had respectfully asked if he could attend, but she had turned him down. "I can forgive Dean for running," she told Daniel, "And Monica would have. He was kind to her. I can't forgive Paul for covering for her killer. Not yet, at least. But the gesture counts, too."

Carolyn also held the eulogy, told stories about her dead friend. About the good times they had. About the trouble she had gone through, how she was stubborn and proud sometimes, warm and loving the next moment. Again, Daniel was reminded how eerily similar some of her personality was to Dean's and he could see that Seth noticed, too. Eyes down, face calm, he saw his hand press Dean's until the other man's fingers turned white. _Life can be short,_ Daniel thought.

When it was all over, Detective Moore shook Carolyn's hand and nodded at them all before leaving. Daniel nodded back. Their legal troubles still loomed over them, but he found that since they had left the police station, his anger at the man had slowly evaporated. The detective had made mistakes, but so had everyone during this insane weekend. All together, they had somehow managed to find out why the woman they were laying into her grave now died, and that was what mattered in the end. They could not bring her back, but at least she would get some justice.

It was the last time Daniel saw Roman, Seth and Dean for another week, until one evening, his phone beeped repeatedly to show the arrival of a whole series of pictures.

"Two weeks. Sometimes I really can't believe them," Daniel said, shaking his and smiling. Brie looked over his shoulder at the pictures. "Nah, it fits," she said. "It just always has to be all or nothing, right? But you'd think they would have invited you after all that happened!"

Daniel scrolled through the pictures: Seth and Dean in their tuxes, kissing, exchanging rings, hugging Jojo, then a selfie in which Roman had tried to capture everyone of the small gathering. "Nah," Daniel smiled. "It's their own thing. It's all good the way it is."

He remembered the text message Kevin Owens had sent to him immediately after Wrestlemania. " _I'm sorry for what I said_ ," it read. " _It wasn't wrong…_ " Daniel had written back. " _Doesn't mean it was right to say it."_ was Kevin's response. Daniel had left it at that.

Brie kissed his hair. "You know you are too nice for your own good, right? And I can't believe Seth didn't fix his hair first!" She smiled and went back to her computer, continuing to work on her latest project.

Brie had not yelled at him when he had come back from the police station. Not told him what an idiot he was for taking a risk like that. While he was away, she had started to make a list of potential lawyers for him, compared prices, called people for info. When he had brought her up to speed, it took her less than an hour to hire a public relations team that would work for all of them.

Only when everything had been organized, the kids were fast asleep in the next room and they had gone to bed, Brie had started crying and didn't stop for hours. Daniel could do nothing to comfort her, no apology, no promise never to do anything like this again made a difference. It had been difficult between them for a while, but with all the time they could spend together now, the ice had melted again. They had not discussed what would happen in the unlikely case that WWE would call and ask him to wrestle again, though. So Daniel tended to the garden, spent time with his children, and wondered about the future.

* * *

The good thing about moving was that it left little time for worrying. Roman had helped to clear out Dean's place and put all the stuff they wanted into the moving van. "Why on earth would you take that fucked-up old bed with the broken bedpost," Roman had grunted after hoisting it into the van. Seth blushed. "I might be able to fix that once we're in Iowa…" he muttered. "Really?" Dean looked up from the box he was shifting. "You have that? And you kept it?" He pulled Seth into a long kiss. Roman didn't ask.

Everything had been kind of a blur to Roman since he had seen his brothers again through the glass door at the police station. They were back with him, finally together, even married in front of his eyes just a few days ago. Everybody happy and healthy. He knew what his suspension would mean financially and he felt vaguely guilty that he did not feel all that bad about it. After that terrifying weekend, he just felt grateful for the freedom, the time he would have with his family, with his friends.

He found a pillow and threw it, hitting Dean in the back of his head. "Stop it, now, before I have to get the garden hose!" Hearing them complain and bicker in return was music to his ears.

* * *

Dean's phone arrived just before they left Vegas and Seth's waited for them in Iowa. He switched it on, but then put it in a drawer and went back out to help Dean with his stuff. He wanted all the messages to come through so he could look at the whole mess at once when Dean had gone out of grab some food.

The first things that popped out were the missed calls from his Crossfit contact. Seth felt his heart slump. Holding the WWE suspension in his hands had been painful and he was not sure if he could do the "We're sorry, but we need to release you from your contract" – talk. He let himself fall back on the bed just when the phone rang again. Nicole from Crossfit. Again. But there was no helping it and he knew it.

"Seth! I thought I'd have to send a mail pigeon or something!" She didn't really sound like she was going to give him the "You're fired" talk. "Got my phone back from the police literally an hour ago…" Seth said. "Oh. Of course. Well, let's cut to the chase, how long are you suspended from WWE?" "Indefinitely." He ran a hand across his face. So _now_ she would start the "I'm sorry…" part. But she didn't. "Hm, that should give us at least three months, right? Probably more?" Seth stared at the ceiling, but it didn't make sense. "Sorry, what?" he said after a while.

"Okay, Seth, you've got a lot on your plate, with what happened at Wrestlemania and getting married – oh, damn, forgot, congratulations, of course! – But your contract with us is pretty clear – we take the backseat towards your responsibilities at WWE, but currently you are not working for them and not injured, that means we could finally do some more time-consuming pieces with you. The board is thinking of a web special with workout videos, maybe some live-chat events… we need you at the headquarters to discuss details. Fly you in Monday?"

Seth let her voice wash over him, confusion mounting. "Nicole…" he finally managed. "You know I might still be charged with obstruction of justice?" "We would make room for court dates, of course," Nicole replied. "No, well, I mean… doesn't that bother you? And that I married another guy…" Nicole sighed at the other end of the line. "Seth, I see that WWE is pissed, I mean, you did not show up for work and all, but so far, you never missed a work commitment with us, so that's not really an issue. The obstruction… well, it's not like you didn't have a good reason. I think if we did popularity polling, you'd top the numbers you got right after coming back from your knee injury. And Dean, I mean, I think I remember that he hated Crossfit, but if he wants a guest spot… we could pitch something like a special workout for people with a chronic injury. Hm… there might be an angle there… but let's discuss this Monday. You're back in Iowa? I'll send you the flight details. See you then! Oh, and one thing – we need to fix your hair. See you Monday!" She had hung up before Seth got another word in.

"Bad news?" Dean asked from the doorway, take-away dinner in hand. "No…" Seth replied, still confused. "Apparently, I still got a job. Crossfit wants to see me Monday…" "Should have known they can't do without their Crossfit Jesus," Dean grinned and Seth rolled his eyes. "Don't call me that." But Dean had already dropped the food and moved on top of him, throwing the phone on a chair and pinning him on the bed. "Means we'll have to use the weekend well, right?"

* * *

Seth hadn't imagined being out of work to be so fucking _busy._ Even though the PR team and the lawyers had told him to lay low, the Crossfit-engagements alone meant that he was hardly at home more than when he was still working for WWE. He worried how Dean would adjust in their new home all on his own and he was glad that the PR team suggested that Dean should do some charity work. "Kind of pre-emptive community service," they had said and the lawyers agreed that it could only help.

Dean had easily chosen a homeless shelter downtown and when they both managed to be home at the same time, he would tell Seth about the people he met, the conversations he had. Dean told their stories with his whole body, glowing eyes and so much compassion that Seth felt himself getting slightly jealous. "You really like it there, don't you?" he said softly when Dean had finished his latest update on the events at the shelter over dinner.

Dean picked up on his meaning immediately. Seth knew he would. "Yeah, but it's not like having a good match. Nothing is." Seth nodded. "I know." "You can't beat that high. The exhaustion, the fun…" "But it's still… good, isn't it?" Dean shrugged. "It's… special to help with those people. Hear their stories. Okay, some of them behave like assholes, but if you can talk them down and then understand why they're so mean to others, maybe even make them be better for a little while… yeah, it's good, too. Useful." Seth nodded. "You wonder if I could be there permanently, don't you? Get a real job there?" Dean asked and Seth smiled an embarrassed smile. "I'm pretty transparent, right?" "Only to me," Dean answered, kissed Seth softly and pulled him over to the couch.

"Maybe… who knows. Can't hurt if I ask them about it. What I would have to do, and stuff. But I've been thinking about something else, too…" Dean said, playing with Seth's hair. "I mean, I wonder if I quit too early trying to be a manager or commentator or something… at some promotion…" he trailed off. WWE had not contacted them at all. Seth knew that the chances of coming back were getting smaller and smaller. "I mean," Dean continued, "Maybe I was too stuck on trying to be an actor, I should be ready when you are picked up again, in case they want me for a story. I know I can't wrestle full-time, but maybe I could be your manager. I would have to practice what I can do with the bum shoulder…" "Well, conveniently, you married a guy who owns half of a wrestling school," Seth grinned.

He moved on top of Dean and kissed him again. "You think that's okay, babe?" he asked softly when they had to stop for air. "Be my manager, watch me wrestle when you can't?" There was a subtle shift in how Dean's body felt under him and when he looked up, there was a familiar, dark glint in Dean's eyes and a smirk on his lips that went straight to Seth's cock. He felt Dean's fingers curl into his hair and slowly increase the pressure on his scalp. "Oh, I'm sure you'll show me just how grateful you are back in our room…" Dean purred into his ear and Seth shuddered. He let Dean guide his head down.

* * *

With all that was good with his new life, Seth found that the silence from his old colleagues, his old life, hurt. When he opened his messages, there was nothing from any of them after the end of March.

Even before they had left the hotel, they had shot a little video on Roman's phone, apologizing for what had happened. They had sent it to the whole WWE group, but after their suspension, they got kicked out and never got an answer. They had also used the rest of their cash money to buy huge bouquets of flowers for Paige, Bayley and Sasha. According to all sources, they had hit it out of the park with their match, but of course that would not be what Wrestlemania 36 would be remembered for now. Of all the things Seth felt bad about, this ranked pretty high. But this gesture also remained unanswered. Seth had decided that he would have to wait for them to forgive him.

They tried to avoid WWE news as best as they could, tried to spend the little time they had together with nicer things. Still, some things were so big that they could not be missed. Stephanie kicking Hunter out of the WWE management, separating from him. Hunter being charged with bribery. Brock's trial being delayed and delayed all over again. The press starting attempts of character assassination on Carolyn, now key witness since Paul's confession at Wrestlemania was obviously inadmissible. Her job and her past made it easy for them. It made both Seth and Dean so angry that they only asked Daniel for updates when they felt they could stomach it.

Things only turned around when Paul, who had stayed mum since Wrestlemania, suddenly offered a full, unsparing confession of everything he and Brock had done during this weekend. Press now turned on him, suggesting it was mostly done for his own advantage, but when they talked about it, all four of them felt that wasn't true. "Maybe it's wishful thinking…" Daniel told them during a video call, "But I think his remorse is real. Before, there was nothing really gained from a confessing, Monica stays dead, but now he can at least get Carolyn off the hook. She's been trying to stay tough, but there's just so much you can take when you know your son will hear all about it at school… She wouldn't have stopped, though. But I'm glad she doesn't have to, now."

There were other news that made them a little more optimistic. Shane and Stephanie's huge interview about the health of their father. Their pledge to make sure that WWE would be a safer, fairer place from now on. As far as Seth could tell, it helped. Ratings were up. Reports seemed mostly friendly, supportive. It made Seth happy and sad at the same time, happy for his co-workers, sad it only happened now, without him. And even though the press was almost unanimously nice about him, Dean, Roman and Daniel, he knew there were no guarantees now what his future would hold.

* * *

Dean woke Seth up on his birthday unnaturally early, especially considering when they had finally fallen asleep. "Are you okay?" Seth asked sleepily. Dean scoffed at him. "Just because I'm up before you? Got a surprise for you, sleepyhead. Get dressed. Get your pretty ass downstairs." "We said we wouldn't spend money on gifts…" Seth half complained. "I didn't," Dean said, almost jumping up and down now with impatience "And it's not really a gift. C'mon now, you'll like it, get up…" Seth got dressed hastily, followed Dean down the stairs. "Front door," Dean instructed and Seth felt Dean's hands over his eyes just when he wanted to open the door.

"Where are we going?" Seth asked. "Nah, who's being curious?" Dean teased. Seth closed his eyes and let himself be slowly guided by Dean, but after only a few paces, they stopped. "Ready?" Dean asked. "Mhm…"

Dean pulled away his hands and Seth saw his car in the driveway. It gleamed in the early morning sunlight and for a moment, Seth thought it was some weird kind of inner-city mirage. "Ta-da!" Dean shouted. Seth moved forwards, put a hand on the hood. "It's real alright," Dean laughed. "Told you, not a gift as such. But the lawyer called last week, said they had come to an agreement with the lawyer of the other guy – you get your car, he gets his, we all sign that no-one is going to drag anyone else to court or ever talk about this again – I got the documents inside. So, Happy Birthday!" He turned Seth around and kissed him.

"Let's get away," Seth whispered. "Take her for a spin…" "Something wrong?" Dean asked. "No. It's perfect. But I don't… I don't want to spend today looking at my phone and no-one calls. Let's keep the phones home and just drive. What do you think?" "Whatever you want, babe." "And I could finally teach you how to drive with that gear-stick…" Seth smiled. "Look who's feeling brave," Dean muttered.

They spent the day on the road, driving around randomly to places even Seth did not know, only stopping for food or gas or when they saw something they liked. They would see Roman, Daniel and their families for a shared birthday dinner the next weekend. This day was just for them.

When they came home late, Seth felt the tight knot in his chest again. "Would you maybe…" he said softly "...look at the phone first?" Dean nodded and picked it up. A big grin split his face immediately. "I guess you'll need to charge it first. Almost empty from all the notifications."

And there they were, his old friends, his co-workers. Short messages, longer ones, little videos. Congratulations on his birthday, his wedding. "We miss you". Seth's first tear hit the screen before he realized he was crying. "See? Some things just bounce back to normal," Dean said, hugging him from behind, watching the videos, reading the messages.

Seth stopped scrolling when he reached a voice mail from Hunter. His thumb hovered over the play-symbol uncertainly. "Am I feeling that lucky?" he asked Dean. "Dunno…" the other man said. "But even Hunter is not going yell at you on your birthday. I think." Seth sighed. "Okay… let's give him a chance."

"Seth, hey," Hunter's voice said. He sounded uncertain. It didn't suit him at all, Seth thought. "It's Hunter. Calling to wish you a happy birthday. All the best for the next year. And, belatedly, congratulations on your wedding. I'm… very happy for the two of you." There was a pause and Seth wondered if that was all Hunter had managed, but there was still recording time left. Finally, Hunter started again: "The last message I left for you – I'm sure you know by now I tried to take it back. I don't know if that makes a difference to you. But I just wanted to tell you again I did not mean it. Nothing of it. I… have made serious mistakes that weekend. And before. And… we all have, I think… but that's no excuse. What I mean is… I… I've had to think a lot about mending things lately. There's much here that is broken. I'm not sure all of it can be fixed. But I'd be very happy if our friendship could be, some time down the road. Until then… I hope you are well. And I wish you all the best. Happy birthday."

The call ended. Dean found his voice first. "Wow, I think I never heard Hunter ramble before." "You think he means it?" Seth asked. Dean's arm hugged him tighter. "Well, it's not one of his over-practiced promo speeches; it might actually be from the heart? Who knows…" "You know, I noticed this happily-married thing makes it so much harder to stay mad for long…" Seth leaned back and let Dean kiss him. Hunter could not hurt him anymore.

Seth spent the rest of the evening replying to the messages of his friends, but he did not know what to say to Hunter.

Kevin's call came the next day. "Hey Sellout, how are you?" Seth was greeted cheerfully. "Great," Seth answered automatically. "How are you? Family?" "Good, everybody's doing well. Thought I wait to say happy birthday, didn't want to get stuck in line. And now that I'm actually allowed to talk to you…" "Allowed?" Seth asked. Some of the other wrestlers had said something like that in their messages, but no-one explained. "Yeah, allowed. WWE told us we were not allowed to contact you, that was… Monday morning after Wrestlemania. You didn't wonder why no-one called you before?"

"I just thought you're all still mad at me," Seth answered honestly. Kevin laughed. "Yeah, maybe that too, but, come on. We have a lot of bad habits, but we're not that prone to holding grudges. Nah. We were just not allowed. But now, since management is proclaiming the new age of WWE, where everything will get better, we had a vote, and, congratulations, you're not anathema anymore."

"A vote?" Seth asked. Kevin sighed. "Believe it or not, times they are-a-changin at WWE, or something like that. WWE is seeing the light on quite a lot of things. We get more say, injuries are taken more seriously. Staff treated better. It's… a much nicer place now. You know, less totalitarian regime, more actual workplace. And they told us we were allowed to vote on some things, so we thought we try to overturn the rule that we can't contact you. Went through easily, with your, Roman's and Daniel's birthday all in one week. First logical step to getting you back on the roster, I think."

"I'm happy things got better," Seth said softly "But that will never happen, Kev." He was not sure if he could allow himself that fantasy. "Come on," Kevin said. "I don't mean to be cruel, for once, but the ratings we have right now are because of all that drama during Wrestlemania. And because especially the woman pulled off another great match during Raw after Wrestlemania." "Come for the drama, stay for the sports entertainment?" Seth guessed. "Yeah, pretty much. And ratings are pretty good and stable since, so we did something right." So at least something good had come out of all this, Seth thought. It did not balance the scales, Monica was still dead, but at least some things moved forward. Without him. But, forward.

"Still, they're not going to take us back. Two months, no word at all…" Seth said. He could almost hear Kevin shrug. "It's not exactly like a wellness policy violation where you know exactly how long you will be down. 'Throwing a Wrestlemania match' is not in the catalogue. You'll just have to wait and see. But we want you back. Maybe punch you first, but then have you back around. And the fans, too, of course…"

"Really?" Seth asked. "You're really not watching, are you?" Kevin said. "The fans shout your names. Every fucking show. Every time something is not quite that good, it's "We want Rollins, we want Ambrose, we want Roman, we want Bryan…" Last show, I told them to stop that shit and cheer for people who actually show up for work. The boos were great." Seth could imagine Kevin's wide grin. "You can't go by what the fans chant, we both know that," Seth said. "Anyway, thanks Kev," He could not help but smile. They still called his name. And Dean's, too! That meant even more to him.

"You just need that legal bullshit cleared." Seth sighed. Roman and Daniel had almost reached an agreement with the court that they would pay a fine to charity, nothing more. But they had still no word if he and Dean would get charged. The lawyers kept saying it was less likely by the day, but that brought no relief.

"I still doubt they'll take any of us back," Seth finally said. He could not risk getting his hopes up. "Wait for it," Kevin said. "It's a good time for forgiveness over here. Did you know that Steph kicked out Hunter immediately after Wrestlemania? But now, I think they are doing couples therapy, and you can actually have them in the same room again, though Hunter has no power at the moment." It explained some of the phone call, Seth thought. Maybe he was really trying to piece it all back together.

"You didn't sign anywhere else yet, did you?" Kevin asked, suddenly alarm in his voice. Seth looked at a few sheets of paper on the sideboard. "No, I didn't…" he said. "But you got offers." "Maybe. But no good ones, to be honest. I… finally feel as if I arrived somewhere, I can't pack my things and drag Dean to Japan. And back to the Indies here… I don't know how they feel about me and Dean. And they're reluctant to sign Roman, I'll never get why. But we cost him his job, he needs to make money… if I can convince them to sign him, too…"

Kevin sighed. "Seth, I don't know if Roman or Daniel told you, but we had a… let's call it a discussion during Wrestlemania weekend. About loyalty." Seth thought about this for a second. "No, don't think they mentioned it." Kevin chuckled. "Nice of them. Maybe not my best moment, but, anyway… I still think that deep down, this is about loyalty - to all of us. Wait. Show WWE that letting us down was a one-time thing, for a good reason. For the man you love. But stay loyal to us now. Accept your punishment. Wait. Just a little longer."

"If they are serious about the health of their performers, they can't take Daniel back," Seth pointed out. "And you suddenly think that's a bad thing?" Kevin asked back. "You know what I mean. It constantly worried you. And Daniel will always find a place. I'm sure. But what about you?" "I found a place already," Seth said softly. He thought Kevin would make a joke about this, but he did not. "And I'm happy for you. But there's another place here with us," he just said. "Give my love to the lunatic. See you soon, I'm sure!"

When Seth had disconnected the call, Dean showed up in the doorway. Seth immediately knew something was wrong and he could tell what it was when he saw two letters in his hand. "They just arrived," Dean said hoarsely. "They are from the court." Seth took a deep breath. "Well, then at least we will know." Dean tore both letters open at once, still standing in the hallway, not waiting to get an opener and ripping off part of the letter in the process.

It was all legalese, of course, and Seth found that the words did not want to make sense, his heart beating so loud that he could not concentrate.

"Insignificance," Dean read out loud and suddenly it fell into place. "They are not charging us," Seth said. "Look, the letters are identical. It's over." Dean fell into him, laughing, crying, and Seth lost his balance, sending them both to the hallway floor.

"Shoulder okay?" Seth asked immediately. "Yeah," Dean whispered and pulled Seth into his arms. "Everything is okay right now. We can move on now. Look forward. Everything will be okay..." He kissed him slowly and deeply, pressing him to his chest. "Seth…" Dean whispered close to his lips. Seth looked into Dean's eyes and he could read that Dean was looking for the words again. Wanted to tell him, struggled, got scared that he could not...

"I know," Seth whispered and sealed Dean's lips with his. And he did. He tried telling him again with his kiss and felt Dean kiss him back with the same fire. He knew he would always love Dean, with words and without. And he knew could wait. They had all the time in the world.

* * *

It was the night after SummerSlam when Daniel finally made his way to the ring again. He had missed it, the noise, the lights, the electricity. The crowed yessed for him as if he had never been away and he felt happy and heartbroken at the same time. He had done this before, announced his retirement tearfully, even though he had not really believed it. Had not given up yet.

This time, it would be different, and he knew it. The smiles on the faces of two children told him all he needed to know. He had gotten overtime, so to speak. And he got out alive and reasonably healthy. But he knew he had to stop before his luck ran out. Now. Brie in the first row gave him a thumbs-up.

He tried to start his promo, but the crowd would not shut up. After what felt like ages, he could finally start. "Guys and girls, I can't tell you how good it feels to be back!" Another roar, another pause until he could go on. "After Wrestlemania, I never thought I'd stand here again. Because of what I did. But also because of what was almost done to me. There are times in a man's life…" The crowd started shouting "No, no," But Daniel went on. "…when he has to make decisions, sometimes hard ones. I retired before. And I need to retire again, at least from the inside of the ring. But now I know that I can't retire completely. That's why - Shane McMahon made me your new general manager of Raw!"

The crowd exploded in cheers. And slowly, other chants started. _We want Roman. We want Ambrose. We want Rollins._ "Ah, I know, I know. But that is something I can't give you," Daniel said in a sad voice. The crowd booed "But maybe, just maybe, it is just something I can't give you _yet_." More loud cheers.

Kevin Owens' music hit right on cue. He had all the heels on the roster with him, some arriving from behind, surrounding Daniel quickly. Daniel could see the suppressed smiles on the faces of the younger, more inexperienced heels. Kevin had the mic. "Daniel freaking Bryan," he said. "Can't you just stay down?"

The crowd hissed and booed. Daniel looked across the faces surrounding him, trying with all his might to show fear on his face and not grin madly. "You betrayed us," Kevin went on. "You threw your match at Wrestlemania for the three idiots who just think about themselves. You are no longer welcome here." _Everything happens twice, first as tragedy then as farce_ , it went through Daniel's mind. Who had ever said that was always a bad thing? "This time," Kevin finished his promo, "Your exit here is going to be very, very final." He dropped the mic and the heels approached the ring slowly.

Outside, Roman was close to a screaming fit when Seth and Dean finally came running down the empty corridor. "Where the fuck have you..." But a look at their glowing faces and their wide, contented grins answered the question. "Oh you didn't," Roman muttered "Did we miss it?" Dean asked, panting. "Almost, but not yet. Did you tape his shoulder right?" Roman asked Seth, and Seth nodded to spare some breath. "I can't believe the two of you. I really can't…" Roman said, looking at his brothers. He remembered how close he had come to losing them. How long it had taken them to be happy together. He hugged both of them to his chest quickly and kissed their foreheads. "Never change," he whispered to them. "Never change." On the other side of the door, The Shield's music hit. They looked at each other as the door opened. The crowd went wild.

 ***deep breath***

 **This very happy ending is partially due to my mum's intervention – I told her that I think I'm over-fixing my story, and she basically said: "Sweetheart, you know what the world out there is like. This is fiction. Why not fix as much as you possibly can?" I couldn't really argue with that.**

 **I didn't want to fix Seth and Dean's timing – that remains ridiculously awful in good times as in bad. And, sorry to probably disappoint you, but Dean will need more time to say those three words and to me, it always felt more important that Seth can cope with that and actually wait for him. (If you want, leave a comment when you think Dean will finally be able to say it. Could be fun ;) )**  
 **Also, maybe Seth will forgive Hunter some time… but not yet.**

 **And, one last silly reference: The "Everything happens twice" quote is by Karl Marx (at least more or less).**

 **Okay, and this one time, I'm actually going to ask.**  
 **If you made it through to here, whether you read it all or skipped through some of it: I'd be so very happy if you left me a little note. Doesn't need to be anything grand. Would just love to hear from you.**

 **That's it from me, thank you all again. Over and out.**


End file.
